


Tie My Heart to Yours

by Craftybadger1234



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Draco Malfoy, Depression, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Happy Ending, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mildly Dubious Consent, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Potions, Red String of Fate, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24805984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Craftybadger1234/pseuds/Craftybadger1234
Summary: For fun, Slughorn has the eighth year students brew a potion to reveal their Red Strings of Fate. Harry doesn't know what to think about being tied to Draco. Or how to make a relationship work between them.*This story moves lightning fast, because I just wanted our two boys to clash, angst about sex and tragic backstories, and then skip off merrily into a happily ever after.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Past Antonin Dolohov/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 68
Kudos: 495





	1. And so it begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you CleopatraIsMyName for helping me with this one! The spell-check, the plot that needed tightening, and the off-shoot conversations I enjoy so much! I had a great time with this one.
> 
> This was completely self-indulgent. I just came off of "Pieces of Me" (which was massive) and wanted something short and fast, that would also yank my heartstrings. I almost made myself cry twice! I kept side plots and secondary characters to a minimum on purpose.

“I have a special treat for you all today!” Professor Slughorn said happily, rubbing his hands together with glee. “As we all know, Valentine’s Day is just around the corner!”

Harry made eye contact with Ron from across the aisle and they both rolled their eyes. Fucking Valentine’s Day, what a waste of effort.

“And as luck would have it, I’ve just received an advanced copy of _Potions Weekly_ with a special recipe for a potion that will reveal, for a brief time, your red string!”

The students looked at one another in confusion, and Slughorn’s face fell. Likely he’d hoped for dramatic gasps and excited twittering, but Harry didn’t even know what a red string was.

“Your red string - the _red string of fate_! Your one true love!” 

Harry scoffed at that. What a load of nonsense. He looked across the aisle to laugh about it with Ron, but Ron was lost in Hermione’s eyes for the moment. Harry looked down at his notebook and fiddled with his pen, and hoped no one noticed him left as third wheel. Again.

Slughorn sent parchments sailing around the room. “Here are your own copies of the recipe. We’ll get started working on it today, as it will take the entire week to brew and cure. We have the basics to get started on. The rest are on owl order and should be here within a day or two.”

Harry scanned the recipe with Anthony Goldstein, his potions partner. “Do we _have_ to brew this?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

To his regret, the comment made Slughorn giggle. “Oh Mr Potter… worried about disappointing your fan club?” Harry’s face darkened, even more when Malfoy and Nott eyed each other with matching smirks, but Slughorn remained oblivious. “Even if you don’t want to drink, I think you’ll find the magical theory of interest. It’s quite an advanced potion and I’m sure you’ll _all_ want to prove your skill with it. Now… let’s get started, shall we?”

“I can’t wait to tell Susan,” Ernie said, as the five pairs of students began mixing powdered moonstone with rose thorn oil.

“Do you really need a potion,” Anthony said, “to tell you the girl you’ve been dating for three years is the one for you?” He lit a flame under their cauldron and pointed Harry to the standard ingredient mixture.

“No, of course not, but it’ll be fun, right?”

“It’s terribly romantic,” Lisa agreed. She and Mandy shared a look and broke off into giggles. “How long does the potion last?”

Professor Slughorn pointed to the bottom of his scroll. “It says here approximately four hours.”

“So what,” Justin said, “we’re just meant to make a mad dash across all of Britain, following the string? Hoping we aren’t stuck in some empty moor when the time’s up?”

“Unless it’s someone in the castle,” Ernie said with a grin.

“It _is_ most likely to be someone here within the castle,” Slughorn agreed, glancing over the parchment. “I believe the accompanying article explains the scant research we have on the topic. If I remember correctly, your soulmate is most likely someone of a similar age and experience as yourself. Common ground and whatnot.” He eyed them all with glee. “I suppose we’ll see what turns up!”

At the table in front of Harry’s, Malfoy suppressed a snort and whispered to Nott. Stirring the cauldron, Nott nodded with an eye roll. Given their histories, it would suck to be on the other end of their strings, Harry thought to himself. Common ground - what utter rot.

Anthony pursed his lips and gave the cauldron another stir. “And I suppose this will be excellent, and _free_ research for _Potions Weekly_.” Harry elbowed Anthony playfully, pleased to have a partner that shared his skepticism.

“This is strictly for fun and practice, Mr Goldstein,” Slughorn said, resting his hands on his ample belly. “Having a little data to report to the developer is just a bonus.”

For a while they worked in silence, but as they reached the point where the potion needed to steep before the next step, and one shielding charm after another covered the cauldrons in the room, chatter began to pick up once again.

“Do you think the Headmistress would let us leave the school grounds for a while, if it _is_ someone outside school?”

“If it’s just to Hogsmeade, that’s probably fine. But what if they’re… I don’t know, in London? How’re you supposed to get that far? How would you even know it’s that far?”

“This is so exciting. I can’t wait to find out who it is!”

“I can,” Harry mumbled to Ron and Hermione as he followed them out the door to the Great Hall for lunch. “This whole thing is ridiculous.”

“I agree,” Anthony said, walking beside him. “Who wants that kind of pressure?”

Harry nodded vigorously, “I know, right? I don’t want to fall in love with someone just because a potion -”

“A potion in its testing phase,” Anthony interrupted.

“-says that I should.”

“They’ve already tested it,” Hermione said, “otherwise it wouldn’t be published.”

“Nonsense. How would they know it even works right?” Anthony insisted.

“ _Magic_!” Lisa and Mandy yelled together with matching grins.

The debate continued over lunch with Harry arguing, “Why should fate get to decide these things for me anyway?” Goodness knows he’d had enough of fate making decisions for him.

And Ernie replying with, “It’s just a shortcut to happiness.”

“There are no shortcuts. Happiness is earned.”

“Earned faster when the goal is laid out clearly for you.”

While they mashed ashwinder eggs in the potions lab, Anthony sided with Harry. “I don’t want to be tied to another person, both literally and figuratively, and have to conform to their expectations because of some nonsensical belief in one true love.”

“I thought for sure you’d be interested,” Justin replied. “After all, it’s just one more data point, right? Don’t you Ravenclaws love data of all kinds? And it’ll take the guesswork out of the relationship.”

“I’m not interested in a relationship,” Anthony said curtly.

“But when you _are_ ready… this potion will have done the work for you.”

Harry sprinkled pearl dust over the gently bubbling cauldron. “You’ve forgotten about the ‘conforming’ part. Anthony’s right, and I shouldn’t have to change who I am just because the potion told me to.”

“Maybe you’ll change because you want to.”

“I already know I don’t want to.”

“So don’t drink it,” Hermione said, stirring her mixture. “Let all your mad fans clamour all over you, vying for your attention.”

“Or,” Ron said immediately, “You can drink it, know immediately who is worth your attention, and be able to publicly declare yourself completely unavailable to everyone else.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “It’s almost… as if you two rehearsed that.”

Hermione shrugged unapologetically. “Only trying to bring all points of view to light.”

On their last brewing day, Lisa sighed at her pearlescent potion. “This is so exciting. It’s all so… romantic!”

“Just as I’d hoped,” Slughorn said with that insipid smile that drove a spike of rage through Harry.

“Should we wait until Sunday to drink?” Hermione asked. “If we’re hoping for romance?”

“Can we wait that long?” Mandy asked. “I’d drink it now if I thought it would work.” She grimaced and added three drops of castor oil to the potion. The ethereal mixture settled into a solid white color.

“So eager, are you,” Harry asked, “to become someone else?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Oh stop. It doesn’t make you someone else…”

“Oh no? You think that knowing for certain who fate has paired you with, won’t change who you are?” He added castor oil to his own potion while Anthony stirred. “You and Ron are already together. What if your strings are connected? You don’t think your relationship is going to change?”

“Of course it will,” she sighed. “But only for the better. Now that we can move forward with certainty.”

“Wouldn’t you rather move forward because you _want_ to?”

“I think you’re thinking too hard.”

“I think you’re not thinking hard enough.” Harry added a teaspoon of essence of gurdyroot to the cauldron and the white potion became a creamy blue. “That’s good, right?”

“Exactly as described,” Anthony said, looking over their recipe again. “It needs to cure for at least three hours.”

“Ugh, this thing is a huge hassle.”

Brimming with excitement, the class went to lunch with plans to meet on Sunday to drink their potions. Those in favor of drinking thought Valentine’s Day would be the most romantic of options. Harry and Anthony found the whole thing ridiculous and had already agreed not to drink, but would attend class just to see the potion in action.

The students gathered outside the lab, waiting for Slughorn to arrive and unlock the door on Sunday afternoon. Of course the theatrical git showed up ten minutes late, with mock surprise that they were all in the corridor.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he asked as he lowered the wards on the door.

“I hope it’s all right I brought Susan,” Ernie said, tugging her along behind him. “Saves me the trouble of following my string.”

“So certain, are you?” Anthony asked drily. Ernie shot him a scowl and then smiled at Susan.

“All right! Everyone has their potion? I’ve checked them all already, and they’ve turned out brilliantly. I couldn’t be prouder of you all. Now,” Slughorn clapped his hands together eagerly, “who would like to go first?”

Almost vibrating with her excitement, Mandy’s hand shot into the air. Slughorn sent two small shot glasses to each table. “Here you are, Ms Brocklehurst. And good luck!”

Mandy made a small circle over the cauldron with her wand and a dollop of creamy blue potion rose from the surface and into her glass. Raising it in salute, she huffed out a fast breath and drank the contents in one gulp. Immediately a red string formed a small bow on her finger, then continued growing, trailing from her finger until it reached the floor and slithered out the door.

“Oh!” she gasped. “Wish me luck!” But she didn’t wait around to hear it, already in the corridor following her string as it grew.

“Me next,” Ernie said quickly, filling his glass before anyone could protest. 

Susan stood by his side, holding his free hand with wide eyes and an eager grin. “This is so exciting, Ernie,” she said softly. “Kiss me one more time first.”

He gave her a soft, lingering kiss on the lips and then rested his forehead against hers with a sigh. When he straightened, his eyes scanned her face and returned her growing smile. Then he set his full glass on the table with a thunk. “I can’t do it.”

“What?” she breathed out, her face falling.

“I can’t… I can’t do it. I don’t…” he sighed and shook his head. “I love you, Susan. I love you so much and - I don’t need a potion to tell me that you’re the one for me.”

“But you said - you’ve been looking forward to this all week!”

“I know, and now that it’s here, I realise I don’t care. I love you. I love you more each day and I’ll love you forever to come and I can’t imagine ever loving anyone like I love you.” As he said the last, he slowly lowered himself to one knee. He reached into his pocket, smiling at the way Susan’s eyes widened to the size of galleons. She covered her mouth with a gasp. Ernie pulled out a small box and said, “Susan Bones… will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?”

“Ernie -” she gasped, tears falling from her eyes. “You - when did you - oh my - yes! Yes, of course.” Her hands were shaking as he slid the ring on her finger, and then he scooped her up into a twirling hug. “Oh, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” he whispered and then kissed her with considerably more vigour than before.

Harry looked away, not wanting to intrude on this more intimate part of Ernie’s proposal. From across the room, Lisa sighed, “Oh, that was so beautiful.”

Across the aisle, Hermione and Ron were looking at each other. Ron looked down at his glass, then behind him at Ernie and Susan, then back to Hermione. Slowly he set his glass down with a shrug. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, smiling softly at Hermione.

“Ro-o-o-n,” Hermione whined playfully. “But the data set!” He laughed and kissed her cheek, then filled her glass. She winked and tossed back her shot. “Oh, it’s sweet!” She hadn’t even finished speaking when the knot began to form on her ring finger. 

The string didn’t have far to go, with Ron’s hand joined to hers already. The string wrapped around his finger, ending in a neat little bow. They laughed and spread their hands apart to watch the string grow. It shrunk again as their fingers laced together.

“I knew it,” she whispered.

“If you knew,” Ron laughed, “you wouldn’t have needed to drink.” He wrapped her in a hug and kissed the top of her head. “But I’m glad you did because I didn’t know what I wanted. Except you. I want you and - now I have you.”

“Forever,” she said, her voice laced with menacing warning. They laughed and shared another kiss. 

Lisa, already pouring her shot, snorted at their display. “You two are so boring and predictable! My turn!” She drank quickly, squealing in delight at the taste, then waved goodbye to follow her string. 

Hot on her heels went Justin, who drank without comment or preamble. The remaining four students stared at one another.

“Well,” Slughorn said to them. “What of the rest of you?”

“I’m not drinking,” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest. “I only came for Ron and Hermione.”

“Me either,” Anthony said. “I don’t think the potion has anything to show me.”

Malfoy and Nott looked at one another in silence for a moment. “I’ll admit I’m curious,” Nott said. “But… what do we do,” he said slowly, “if there’s a boy at the other end of the string.” He stared at Malfoy with a devious smirk.

A new quality of silence met that statement. Anthony and Harry looked at each other in mild shock, while Slughorn nearly knocked into his own desk in surprise.

Malfoy laughed and raised his glass, “I’ll say nice words at your funeral when your father finds out if you promise to do the same.”

Nott gave him a slow smile and clinked their glasses together. They both drank at the same time. Small knots formed on each of their ring fingers. But where Nott’s trailed out the classroom door, Malfoy’s stretched around him, inching along towards…

Harry backed away, bumping into the table behind him. But he couldn’t move fast enough and the red string wrapped itself around his ring finger.

“What the -” he gasped, raising his arm up and away from Malfoy. The string easily followed, draped across the space between them and keeping them joined. Harry ran a finger over the knot, but like a patronus, it dissolved and reformed around his touch. He turned his eyes to Malfoy, who looked just as gobsmacked as he felt. 

“I didn’t,” Harry swallowed heavily, his face heating uncomfortably. “I didn’t even know I was gay.”

Malfoy growled at him, then grabbed Nott by the arm and fled the room before anyone could stop them.

“Fucking hell,” Harry muttered, watching the string wriggle as Malfoy moved farther away from him. He shook his head, trying to focus through the light floaty feeling spreading through his whole body. 

“Harry…” Anthony said carefully. “What are you… going to do?”

His shaky knees couldn’t hold him up anymore. He collapsed awkwardly onto the table behind him and dropped his head into his hands. A wave of nausea hit hard.

“Mr Potter,” Slughorn said, “are you all right?”

“I don’t know anymore. I have to go.” He jumped off the table onto wobbly feet. Hermione and Ron both reached for him, but he evaded them, pausing for a moment at the door. What if Malfoy was nearby? What if he was headed towards the eighth year common room? Where could Harry hide for a while?

He looked at the red string leading down the corridor to the right of the door, and smothered a mad giggle. He could go anywhere that didn’t follow the string to Malfoy. Turning left instead of right, Harry ran from his fate.


	2. Plan A: give it a week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the questions came from a Google search for "conversation starters".

By dinnertime, the string had faded and the news had time to spread through the entire castle.

Harry Potter was _gay_.

And the Red Strings potion had tied him to _Malfoy_.

It took all of Hermione and Ron’s manipulative powers to get Harry to the Great Hall to face the gossip head on, and eat a real dinner instead of eating snacks in his room or stealing from the kitchens. The buzz of whispers grated on his nerves as he threw himself into his seat and it took every ounce of willpower not to flee.

At least Malfoy sat at the opposite end of the eighth years’ table, pointedly ignoring Harry. He sat alone, because Nott had moved to the Slytherin table across from a pink-cheeked young woman that Harry didn’t recognise. She twirled her long blond hair around her finger, smiling shyly at Nott as they chatted. Harry assumed she had been at the other end of Nott’s string, although it had disappeared with all the others.

Fucking strings. Harry’s head still spun with all the implications. He was gay. _Gay_. Apparently. He hadn’t felt much of any kind of desire since the final battle, what with depression weighing him down all the time. Throughout the meal he stole glances at Malfoy, wondering if he could find someone so pale and pointy attractive. Did it matter? Fate already announced to everyone, with trumpets and confetti and a red-fucking-string, that Harry wanted in Malfoy’s pants.

With disgust, he shoved his plate away and said, “I’m sick of this shit and can’t eat anyway. I’m heading to my room.” Unfortunately, he stood at the same time Malfoy did. They glared at each other and with neither wanting to back down, they headed to the Great Hall doors together amidst twittering whispers and giggles.

In the silence of the Entrance Hall, Harry paused. “I’m going to my room.”

“Like I give a flying fuck where you are,” Malfoy muttered sullenly.

A flare of annoyance drowned out the chaotic jumble of Harry’s thoughts. “I’m only telling you so we can avoid each other!”

“We’ve managed to avoid each other for six months now! I don’t think anything needs to change just because you’re - you’re -” Malfoy’s lip curled in disgust. 

“Whatever, Malfoy,” Harry grumbled. “Fuck off, for all I care.” He ran for the stairs, taking them two at a time, not even caring that it looked like running away.

He’d had too much to deal with for one day. Everything would look better in the morning.

\--------

Things did _not_ look better in the morning. With Nott enjoying his new girlfriend, Malfoy had no one to sit with anymore. He continually threw ugly glares at Harry throughout each meal. During lessons and free times, Harry would catch Nott and Malfoy whispering together, looking at Harry and daring him to interrupt.

And all the while Harry’s stomach continued to coil in tighter and tighter knots. He had managed to ignore Malfoy for most of the year, and hoped to get through their NEWTs without spending any more time together than necessary. But now Malfoy consumed his thoughts. 

Fate decided _they_ should be together? This boy that tormented Harry, on top of the torments he’d already suffered? Shouldn’t he have been given someone that would take care of him? Someone soft and loving that would brighten his days?

Instead he had this sour _boy_ that spent his time… doing fuck-knew-what because Harry knew fuck-all about him. And fucking, fuck, _fuck_ did he hate his life right now!

“Harry,” Hermione said gently, “maybe you could try talking to him.”

Harry tore his eyes away from the blond git reading by the common room windows and glared at her. “I don’t _want_ to talk to him, all right? I’m fine ignoring him and being ignored by him. That whole thing was stupid anyway.”

“If it’s ‘cause you’re gay now, no one cares,” Ron said, flipping through a Quidditch magazine.

“I’m not _gay_ and of course they care. Everyone stares at me all the time hoping I’ll lose my shit and either hex him or snog him.”

Ron grinned, heedless of Harry’s snit. “Maybe you should do one of those, just to get that constipated look off your face.”

“I’m not -”

“Harry,” Hermione interrupted with a stern look at Ron. “We’re all surprised by this turn of events, of course, and it’ll take some adjusting to -”

“I’m not adjusting to _Malfoy_ , and that’s the end of it. He’s a git of the highest order. Have you forgotten everything he’s done? To you?”

“No,” she said softly, “I haven’t. But… maybe we should consider the war changed him like it changed us.”

“He’s still the same git he’s always been,” Harry said sourly.

Ron looked over his shoulder with a complete lack of subtlety at Malfoy and Nott. “Honestly mate, you don’t really know that.” He shrugged at Harry. “Maybe he’s making daisy chains with little muggle girls in Muggle Studies.”

“And fate must have paired you together for a reason,” Hermione added.

“It wasn’t fate, it was just a stupid potion. Soulmates aren’t real and I don’t want one anyway.” Harry fled the common room before they could hound him about it anymore.

Fucking _soulmates_. What a load of hippogriff shit. He didn’t belong with _Malfoy_ and it felt like a betrayal of sorts for Ron and Hermione to turn on him that way. Encouraging him to pursue something with Malfoy? Ridiculous! They had nothing in common and Harry made it his mission to prove it by observing a little more closely over the following days.

Malfoy made the typical annoyed statements about homework and what a waste of time all of it was. And yet, he spent as much time in the library as Hermione, writing copious notes in his neat handwriting. He sneered at the younger students, barking at them to stay out of his way, yet he tutored first and second year Slytherins with Theodore Nott and Daphne Greengrass. Rumour had it Malfoy didn’t date, but never turned down a good time.

It didn’t feel like they had much common ground, unless one considered the war they’d all lived through as common ground. Malfoy was loud, brash, and arrogant, while Harry needed someone quiet, calm, and patient. 

“All he does is annoy me,” Harry complained when Hermione brought it up again.

“Maybe that’s what you need,” Ron said, annoying Harry all over again. Ron noticed his frown and tried again. “What would you do with one of those girls simpering all over you all the time? Isn’t it better you have someone with some backbone? An opinion of their own?”

“Malfoy’s opinions are shit.”

“Malfoy’s opinions may have changed on quite a few things and you would have no way of knowing,” Ron said with a stubborn frown.

“I got you some books, in case they might help,” Hermione piped up. She held out a brown-paper wrapped package. “You should probably open them in your room.”

“If these are about gay sex,” Harry hissed, swiping the package from her hand, “I swear I’m going to set the library on fire just to spite you.” He stomped away from the fire, kicking Ron’s feet on the way just because he could.

“Well if it improves your mood,” Hermione yelled after his retreating form, “it would be worth it!”

Harry frowned at the two books sitting in a small pile of shredded brown paper on his bed. _The Magic of Gay Sex_ and _Conversation Starters_ mocked him, even when he buried his head in his pillow and screamed out his frustration.

He was going to _kill_ Hermione at first opportunity. Or maybe pluck out all of her bushy brown hair and leave her tiny and bald. For sure he would set fire to these books and dump the ashes in her eggs at breakfast. In annoyance, he reached for one of the small paperbacks at random, flipping open to a middle page.

And promptly met with the looping image of two men fucking mechanically, demonstrating - Harry squinted at the footnote - seated reverse cowboy. Fucking hell, he thought as he dropped the book to the floor.

He flipped through the conversation starters, wondering what Hermione hoped to accomplish by getting Malfoy to talk about his childhood pet or favourite meal. Harry didn’t want to share about his shit life with Malfoy, why would Malfoy want to talk to him either?

Except… they were linked. Malfoy was his. Tied to his heart by fate. 

Harry sniffed into his pillow and cocooned himself in his duvet. Fitful sleep plagued him until he finally gave up and went to the common room to sit by the fire. As the early dawn light crept through the room, Anthony Goldstein joined him.

“Up late or early?” Anthony asked as he sat down, already dressed for the day.

“Early I guess. I actually slept a bit last night.”

“That’s good. It seems like you’ve been having a hard time since _the potion_.” His voice dropped dramatically at the end, making Harry laugh.

“That’s an understatement for sure. I just can’t believe it. _Malfoy_? It has to be a mistake.”

Anthony bit his lip and Harry had a chill of foreboding. “You know, I had my doubts about that potion too…”

Harry cringed. “Damn it Anthony! Doubts until when?” he whined.

“Hermione and Ron any idiot could have predicted, right? And even Mandy and Michael - they’ve been on again, off again for years and know each other pretty well. Like if the potion ran off your own brain waves and biochemistry, it would pair you with someone you already wanted, right?’

“I don’t think I like where this is going.”

“But Justin met that witch in Hogsmeade, and he didn’t know her at all. And Lisa met that Hufflepuff in the year below us, someone she would have never crossed paths with otherwise. And you and Malfoy… it really felt like maybe there was more to the potion than simple hormonal tricks...”

“Please tell me you didn’t drink it, Anthony!”

“So I drank mine,” he finished with an awkward smile.

“Traitor!” Harry said with a mock scowl. “Who was it at the other end?”

“It was Megan, can you believe it?”

Harry nodded slowly, thinking of Megan Jones, the quiet Hufflepuff. She rarely spoke, and always had her head buried in a book. “What did she say about it?”

Anthony blushed, “Oh, this and that. She thought it was ridiculous too. But… we’ve been dating for a week and… It’s been really nice. I think it might work out.”

“It’s only been a week and you think I should give this a try with Malfoy?”

“It can’t hurt to have a conversation or two. Just to see where you both stand?”

Harry nodded and inclined his head to his room. “I should get dressed.” He changed out of his pyjamas slowly, fighting the urge to crawl back into bed and mope some more. Maybe they were right. Maybe if he could talk to Malfoy a little… get to know each other… Maybe Harry wouldn’t have to be alone all the time.

\--------

As they entered the Great Hall for breakfast, Hermione squeezed his fingers for luck and sat next to Ron and Neville. Harry steeled himself for the confrontation to come and sat in the empty seat at the end of the table usually occupied by Nott.

“No one invited you to sit there, Potter,” Malfoy said, buttering his toast without looking up.

Harry pushed his fringe from his eyes and adjusted his glasses. “I know. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Hermione got me a book. Conversation starters. I thought we could try it for a week.” Harry shrugged and handed the slim paperback over. “Maybe see if there’s something there.”

Malfoy glanced at the cover and tossed the book to the table next to Harry’s empty plate. “My favourite colour is the blood of slain muggles and my favourite food is feasting on their entrails. This isn’t going to work and I don’t want you for a soulmate.”

“Funny because you’ve always hated Gryffindor red and I’m pretty sure you’re a vegetarian so…” When Malfoy blinked at him, Harry shrugged, “What? Gryffindor red is kind of blood-coloured and - and entrails aren’t vegetarian…”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to make conversation?” Harry flipped open the first few pages of the book. “What’s your ideal holiday?” Harry glanced around the Great Hall. “Any place empty of people. I fucking hate everyone staring at me.”

Carefully Malfoy set his toast on his plate. “And do you think the best way to avoid their staring is to sit next to me?”

“I just want to give this a shot.”

“Oh do you? Mr I-won’t-let-the-string-change-me? What do you think this is?”

Harry stared hard at the book, the words coming in and out of focus. “Aren’t you curious? Why we were paired together?”

“It’s just a fucking parlour trick. A silly little potion for Valentine’s Day magazine sales. It’s worthless, all right?”

He finally met Malfoy’s flashing silver eyes. “Okay well, my favourite colour is blue like the open sky and my favourite food is treacle tart because I ate it at our first welcome feast back in first year. So… yeah…” Harry stood and pocketed the book. He snagged a few pieces of toast and left the Hall for his room, walking steadily despite the adrenaline coasting through him.

Just before Charms started that afternoon, Malfoy sent an origami bird floating into Harry’s lap. As Flitwick began the lesson, Harry unfolded it to read, _My favourite colour is also blue, but deeper like a bluebird. And my favourite food is milk chocolate. Bitter, dark chocolate is a waste of cacao beans._ Harry looked in Malfoy’s direction several times during class, but Malfoy kept his eyes trained on his text.

Was it Harry’s imagination or did Malfoy take an inordinate amount of time to stow his things after class? Hermione and Ron gave him cheerful smiles and quietly wished him luck as they left. Harry lingered, walking slowly to Malfoy’s desk.

“I think this is stupid,” Malfoy sighed as he closed his bag. “But I also don’t want you trailing after me like a sad crup for the next few months like you have been the last few weeks so… I’ll give you a week and then we call it quits.”

“Yeah, okay. A week sounds good,” Harry said, shouldering his own bag. “Want to - drop our things off and take a walk?”

Malfoy visibly suppressed an eye roll. “Yes,” he bit out, “that sounds nice.”

They had to pass through the common room to drop their things off and were met with sly smiles and couples whispering. “This is bullshit,” Malfoy muttered as they entered the boys’ corridor. He kicked his door open and threw his bag in, then slammed it shut again. Crossing his arms he said, “Are you sure this is worth the hassle?”

“No,” Harry said, continuing down the hall to his own room. “But we have to at least try.” He set his bag on the bed and dug through it for the conversation starter book.

Malfoy, leaning on the doorframe, scoffed, “That book is ridiculous.”

“Probably. But it’ll fill the awkward pauses. It’s freezing out, I’ll bet the courtyard is empty.”

Of course on this miserably cold March afternoon, absolutely no one wanted to be outside. The boys walked in silence for half a circuit of the courtyard, kicking at stray rocks and each waiting for the other to start.

Harry sighed and pulled the book from his pocket. “I told you.” His eyes scanned a random page and he read, “What instrument do you wish you could play?”

“This is stupid.”

“My gut instinct says drums because I want to beat the shit out of things sometimes.”

Malfoy snorted. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“What? Don’t you get mad at the world and want to beat something? Destroy something with a beater’s bat or whatever?”

“I don’t know. I play piano. Next question.”

“It said ‘what do you _wish_ you could play,' not what you already play.”

“I play piano and that’s good enough. Just move on already.”

Harry shoved the book at Malfoy. “You pick one.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and Harry wondered if he would be witnessing that eye roll for the rest of his life. And did he want that from life? At least Malfoy took the book and scanned the pages for a question. 

“What book or film do you wish you could experience for the first time again?” He pursed his lips and actually seemed to give it some thought. “ _My Lost Prince_ , by Adelaine Dowden, a witch I’m certain never saw a real dick in her entire life.” He handed the book to Harry and smiled, “But still managed to write a very convincing Prince Elwin going down on his consort Conall. Very enlightening at thirteen. You?”

“Erm…” Harry felt stupid, remembering a long ago school day. “When I was about ten, we watched a film in school one day. A film is like -”

“I know what a film is. We’ve watched several in Muggle Studies.”

“Oh, right. It was _The Princess Bride_. It was - magical.” He stared at the ground ahead of him, avoiding the smirk he knew would be on Malfoy’s face. “Lame kind of save-the-damsel thing.” 

“Boring!” Malfoy called out. “Unless the damsel’s tits only _just_ stayed inside her bodice? Maybe some sexy knight to sweep her off her feet?”

“Er, no… she was actually kind of flat-chested. I guess the blond guy was good looking?”

Malfoy tossed his own blond hair. “He would be.” He elbowed Harry playfully. “Why did it make such an impression?” Harry cast a skeptical look at Malfoy, prepared for cruel teasing. “I promise not to laugh. Unless it’s something supid.”

“It was just… nice. A fun adventure story. The good guy wins in the end. And…” Harry chewed his lip, thinking of the grandfather reading to his grandson, and shared a half-truth. “I liked the way the story unfolded.”

“Hmph, okay.” Malfoy shrugged, his lack of interest apparent. “Pick another question.”

“Oh, erm…” Harry glanced at the book in his hands. And blurted out the first thing he saw, “When has a mundane occurence completely changed the course of your life?” He snorted and shoved the book in his pocket. “You’re right, this is ridiculous.”

Malfoy’s laughter echoed in the empty courtyard. “Aren’t there any interesting questions in there? First kiss? Wildest fantasy? Who would you have a threesome with?”

“I’m not having a threesome with anyone!” Harry blurted out in shock.

“Oh please, you can’t tell me you didn’t want some kind of orgy back in fourth year when the Weird Sisters played the Yule Ball!”

“I did not!” Harry said, his face flushing red. “I didn’t even want to go to that stupid dance.”

“Oh right, I forgot you haven’t had a big gay awakening yet. Poor little you. Want me to kiss you?”

“What? No!”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun.” Malfoy spread his arms and grinned, “Fastest way to test our compatibility, wouldn’t you say? Certainly better than asking me about a moment that changed my life - as if our lives haven’t been one life changing event after another.”

Harry spluttered in protest, but Malfoy caught his hand and pulled him in, bumping their hips together. “Just one kiss, Potter. Ease up.”

“But we - we just -”

“One kiss, all right?” He laid a hand on Harry’s cheek, stilling his protests. “Ready?”

Harry frowned and nodded even though, no, he wasn’t even remotely ready. What if he didn’t like it? What would he do if his body rejected the physical advances of the one person meant to love him? It felt too late to protest as Malfoy’s head tipped toward his. Of their own accord, Harry’s eyes closed at the first brush of Malfoy’s lips.

As Malfoy’s hand slid up Harry’s neck into his hair, his mouth moved slowly over Harry’s, coaxing his lips apart and sliding his tongue inside. Distantly Harry noted a hand on his hip, squeezing gently. Heat bloomed in his belly, along with an unconscious need to press closer to Malfoy. 

“That was… pretty good,” Harry said, coming out of a daze. He leaned in, hoping for a second kiss.

But Malfoy shrugged and was already turning away. “It was passable. Needs a little work, I suppose.” He continued walking along the gravel path, looking back at Harry, who was still lost in a fog of desire and rejection. “That seems like a good place to end it for now. I’ve got homework to do. But we can pick this up after dinner?”

Harry nodded, knowing that if he opened his mouth either expletives or hexes would come out, so he just let Malfoy leave. Passable. _Passable_! What a fucking arsehole the fates had tied him to, he thought as he stomped off towards the Quidditch pitch. Harry didn’t have _time_ to go fucking everyone he met! He was too busy fighting a _war_ and saving people’s _lives_!

At the pitch, he spent the next hour smacking a bludger that had no one but him to chase. It exhausted him and kept the anger from overwhelming him. Maybe he’d look into transfiguring the useless desk in the corner of his room into a drum set. 

\--------

“So, how’d it go?” Hermione asked as soon as Harry returned to the common room.

Harry slumped down onto the sofa next to Ron. “This was a mistake. I _knew_ that potion would fuck things up and it has. I was much happier ignoring that prick.”

Ron patted him on the back. “Mate, it’s your first real conversation with him in forever. Of course it’s a little rocky. You’ll get there.”

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m thinking of transfiguring my desk into a drum kit. How do I lay some silencing charms on the walls?”

The new project occupied them right up until dinner, and kept Hermione from pestering him about Malfoy. Harry pointedly sat at the Gryffindor end of the table, ignoring Malfoy as much as possible. If Malfoy noticed the slight, he didn’t show it.

But he did follow Harry up to his room. “We said we’d pick things up after dinner, right? Go ahead, ask me your dumb questions.”

“I don’t want to ask those questions,” Harry said grumpily, sitting stiffly on the edge of his bed.

Malfoy, the great git, sat right next to Harry with a wicked smile. “Oh good, me neither. I thought we could work on your snogging skills instead.”

Harry didn’t know if he wanted to punch Malfoy in the face, or straddle his lap for easy access. Malfoy solved the dilemma by claiming Harry’s lips in a light, playful kiss that had Harry melting backwards into the bed. Malfoy followed, partially covering Harry’s body and keeping their lips locked together. His hands moved slowly over Harry’s clothes, down his chest and around his hip to squeeze his arse.

“Actually,” Malfoy whispered, grazing Harry’s jaw with light kisses, “I do have some questions. How far did you go with the girl Weasley?” He hooked his fingers into Harry’s waistband and gave it a playful tug. “Did she suck you off? Or just hand jobs?”

“That’s not - that’s none of your business!” Harry blushed and tried to sit up. 

But Malfoy ran a soothing hand up his chest and around his neck, up into his hair. “Shh, hey, it’s fine. I was just curious.” He nibbled at the base of Harry’s throat, dropped a line of kisses along his collarbone. “It’s been an age since I got off with another bloke. What do you want?”

What did he want? Harry had no idea, and hadn’t planned on getting off together. Aside from the occasional passing comment about their classes, they hadn’t spoken much to each other at all until the string tied them together. And now Malfoy wanted them to be naked?

Before Harry could even formulate his thoughts, Malfoy’s shirt hit the floor and his fingers worked the buttons of his trousers. “You look ridiculous, all confused like that.” He sat back on his heels. “Do you want this or not?”

“Is this what you want?”

“Yes?” Malfoy said, his confusion evident on his face. “Why wouldn’t I want to get off, given the chance?”

“Yeah… okay, I guess.” Harry took his t-shirt off, and tried not to hunch into himself too obviously. He didn’t like Malfoy staring at him with that hungry look in his eye. But then his lips were on Harry’s and his body relaxed into the bed again.

This he could handle. Malfoy’s mouth moved with expert ease over Harry’s, drawing up the most delicious heat. It pooled in his belly and spread through him, making him feel lighter than air. But every brush of Malfoy’s hand against his bare skin reminded him he was half naked. The odd vulnerability had him redirecting Malfoy’s hands down towards his denim-clad hips, but Malfoy took that as permission to unfasten the button.

“Wait,” Harry said. “I’m not - erm…”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Malfoy said quickly. “Me first is fine.” He shoved his open trousers and pants down his thighs and wrapped Harry’s hand around his hard cock. Harry smothered a gasp and tightened his grip in reflex. “Yes, fuck, pump it hard," Malfoy groaned.

Harry let out a nervous, juddering breath and moved his hand tentatively up and down Malfoy’s length. 

“Harder, Potter. Fuck - it’s just like wanking yourself. Only, you know, someone else.” Malfoy kissed him again, harder this time, moaning into Harry’s mouth. Impatiently he knocked Harry’s hand aside and took over. He straddled Harry’s lap, giving a frustrated tug to his trousers. He wrestled the wand from his pocket and banished his clothes to the floor. “Much better,” he grinned and resumed stroking his cock, his hand a blur of motion. “You are so fucking hot.”

How had they gotten to this point so quickly? Ten minutes ago Malfoy wasn’t even in this room. Harry didn’t know where to put his hands, and settled for Malfoy’s thighs. With relief he welcomed the slick heat of Malfoy’s mouth over his again and wondered why they couldn’t just do this for a while.

“Let me see you,” Malfoy whispered, sitting back to work Harry’s jeans open.

“No,” Harry said, pushing Malfoy’s hands off. “Just - finish or whatever.”

“ _Fine_ , you ridiculous plonker.” Malfoy’s kiss turned vicious and hot, biting and moaning into Harry until he pulled back with a long moan and watched his come splatter Harry’s belly. His hand slowed and he panted through one last, slow kiss. He sat back and stared blankly at Harry, making him squirm with nerves.

At long last, Malfoy got up and searched for his pants and his wand. He cleaned Harry with a flick of his wand. “You know, if you’re not into cock, this isn’t really going to work.”

Harry turned his back on Malfoy to pull on his shirt and fix his jeans. “I’m just not used to… all this.” 

“And do you think you can _get_ used to this?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said, turning slowly. He crossed his arms, feeling defensive and shaky all over again. “I guess that’s what we’re taking the week to find out.”

Malfoy pursed his lips and gave Harry a considering look. “Well, it’s worth a shot, I suppose. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“That’s it? You’re leaving?”

Malfoy sighed at the ceiling. “Well, you said you didn’t want to ask your questions and you don’t want an orgasm so - frankly I’m out of ideas. I suppose we can just sit and stare at the wall together.”

“Yeah I don’t know what I was expecting either. Just get out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

For a moment, Malfoy hesitated, but then shrugged one shoulder and left. Harry collapsed on the bed with a loud groan no one could hear, thanks to the new sound proofing on the walls. He flipped through the conversation book and read aloud, “What life experiences did you miss out on?”

With as much force as he could muster, he threw the book at the wall.

\--------

Hermione frowned when Harry followed her to the Gryffindor end of the table at breakfast. “I thought you were going to sit with Malfoy.”

“Yeah, I think getting to know him was a mistake. The red string can kiss my arse - we’re not right for each other.”

“You only gave it one day,” said Ron. “That’s not enough.”

Harry squirmed in his seat, thinking about the previous evening but not wanting to disclose too much. “I think we want different things from a relationship.”

“You can’t possibly know that from _one_ conversation.”

“I know that before that potion, I wouldn’t have given Malfoy the time of day. There’s no reason for me to start now.”

“Except that he’s yours,” Ron muttered.

The words stung more than they should have. It seemed, to Harry, that if fate gave him someone to love, it should be - maybe not easy, but at least manageable? He didn’t have the energy to overcome the mountains of obstacles between them. 

At lunch, when Harry didn’t sit with him again, Malfoy instead sat next to Harry, across from Neville. He smiled at Hermione, Ron, and Neville, as if they were any strangers on the street, instead of former enemies. 

“What are you doing down at this end?” Harry asked, poking at his chicken to avoid looking at Malfoy.

“I’m trying to get to know you. I said I’d give it a week. Where’s the book?”

“I don’t have it,” Harry lied.

“Liar. _Accio_ Potter’s lame book.” He grinned in triumph when the book shot out of Harry’s bag and into his hand. He flipped the bent cover back and forth, trying to smooth the crease. “What happened here?”

“It met with the wall.”

“And I missed out? Pity.” He flipped through a few pages, then laughed. “Would you take five million pounds, if the person you hate got ten million pounds? Well obviously, then we’d have fifteen million pounds and that translates to a lot of galleons!” He elbowed Harry with an obnoxious laugh, and Harry had the sudden urge to punch the stupid arse all over again. 

“Enough to buy you your own house to live in far, far away from me,” Harry grumbled, shoveling potatoes into his mouth. 

“Excellent,” Malfoy said. “Glad to see you’re back with us.” He winked at Harry (which did _not_ make Harry’s stomach flutter), then scanned the page for another question. “What petty things get on your nerves? Hmm… “ He snorted at Harry shoving another bite of chicken into his mouth. “Poor table manners. Really, Potter, you can’t chew your food more carefully? Do you have to eat every meal as though you’d never seen food before?”

Harry swallowed thickly. “Yes.” Just to be contrary he took an overly large bite of a roll as well.

Malfoy made a sound of disgust. “You are hopeless. What about you? Pet peeves?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. He swallowed the large lump of food while he thought it over. Their earlier Transfiguration class flashed through his mind. “Noises, I guess. I hate idle tapping and shit.”

“Don’t you want a drum kit?”

“Yeah, but that’s purposeful noise I’m making. It’s the - like tapping fingers on a desk, or a foot knocking against the leg. Sometimes the scratching of a quill, or the loud ticking of a clock. Just - sounds that have no purpose.” Harry shuddered, just imagining the sound waves assaulting his ears, reverberating through his whole body.

Malfoy stilled, narrowing his eyes at Harry. “Sounds like you need an outlet. We should go flying.”

“I fly loads.”

“But it’s more fun with two people. We can go now. I’ve got a free period. After you’re done,” he waved his hand with a grimace, “with your meal.” Then he turned away to avoid seeing Harry take another bite of chicken. 

As Malfoy took a dainty bite of his large salad, Harry asked, “How long have you been a vegetarian?”

Keeping his eyes on his plate, Malfoy said, “Since summer before last.” 

That would have been the summer Malfoy spent at home with Voldemort in residence. What sort of trauma caused vegetarianism? Harry decided he would be happier not knowing. But the wondering had his stomach churning, looking at the chicken on his plate. He opened another roll and stuffed the chicken inside so he could eat it without having to look too closely at it.

As they finished eating in stilted silence, Harry asked, “You really want to go flying?”

“Certainly.” Malfoy wiped at his face and set his napkin next to his plate. “I’m ready when you are.”

Harry shrugged and said goodbye to Ron, Hermione, and Neville. Malfoy followed him to the Quidditch pitch with the familiar, haughty gait that spared not a care for anyone watching. As soon as they got to the pitch, he pushed Harry into the first changing room they came to and warded the door shut.

“Let’s fly,” he whispered, before giving Harry a searing kiss. He gripped Harry’s hips and moaned into his mouth.

For a second or two, Harry went along with it, but it caught up to him quickly when Malfoy’s fingers tried working his jeans open. Harry shoved Malfoy back. “What are you doing?”

“If you haven’t caught on, I’m not sure what to tell you.” Malfoy glanced down at Harry’s jeans. “Don’t you want to get off?”

“I thought we were going to fly.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “It was a euphemism, Potter. Flying solo? More fun with someone else? Get it?” 

“You don’t even like me.”

“But I like fucking around. So what do you say?” His fingers lingered on his own trouser buttons.

Harry followed the movement in confusion. Was that all Malfoy wanted him for? A convenient fuck-buddy? Harry didn’t want that, and certainly wasn’t prepared for it. But if he said no, would Malfoy abandon this little experiment? 

And if he did, who would be left to love Harry?

Already the red string had him tied in knots. Over the last week or so, he’d unconsciously begun putting his hopes in Malfoy, the one person least deserving of it. Was the potion even accurate? Soulmates, really? Could they _really_ learn to love each other?

Only one way to find out, and that was keeping Malfoy at his side. Harry gave a reluctant nod and was immediately rewarded with another kiss. 

“You’ll have fun this time, I promise,” Malfoy whispered, unfastening Harry’s jeans.

But he didn’t. He didn’t know how to. He got hard with Malfoy’s hot, wet lips wrapped around his cock, but the heat that built up made him uncomfortable and had a sour tang to it. He gasped as his orgasm ripped through him, pouring into Malfoy’s moaning mouth. But it left him feeling unsatisfied and restless. Even more than at lunch, he wanted to smash something with a beater’s bat or fly up into the thinnest air his lungs could manage.

Malfoy stood with a grin on his lips. “See, I told you you’d have fun.” He kissed Harry again, his mouth bitter this time. “Now me,” he whispered. 

For a panicked moment, Harry thought he would have to suck Malfoy off, but no, he wanted Harry to wank him like they’d tried yesterday. “Harder, Potter,” Malfoy whined. “Fucking figures the _one_ thing I need you to be good at, you are absolute pants at. It’s just like wanking.”

“I don’t - I don’t - do that,” Harry finished lamely. His eyes were stuck on Malfoy’s prick, held lightly in his hand. He wrapped his hand more firmly around it and cut off whatever words Malfoy wanted to say. Moving with more confidence, his hand slid up and down the long length, drawing moans from Malfoy that made him feel warm all over again.

Moments later, Malfoy came without warning, spilling all over Harry’s hand. He stared in fascination at the mess, and wondered what he was supposed to do now. Malfoy, breathing heavily, also stared for a moment, then pulled out his wand to clean them both up. 

As he fixed his trousers, he said, “You don’t wank? Is that some weird Gryffindor thing?”

Harry shook his head and shrugged at the same time. He wasn’t about to discuss his mind healer’s theories about malnourishment during his childhood and the horcrux hunt, general stress, and post-traumatic stress from the war. “It just makes me restless,” he finally said. He looked around the changing room, noticing a school broom in a corner. Pointing at it he said, “I’m going flying. Real flying.” He summoned the broom without inviting Malfoy along. “Thanks for the -” he gestured vaguely. “I guess I’ll see you at dinner.”

He took to the sky, leaving everything else behind.

\--------

Harry arrived late for dinner and didn’t know what to make of Malfoy sitting with Ron and Hermione again. With a grimace he sat next to Malfoy, across from Ron.

Hermione smiled in welcome. “Did you have fun flying?”

Malfoy snorted, but Harry ignored him. “I guess. The school brooms are shaky but I managed it.” He wiped at his nose, even though Madam Pomfrey had spelled away all the blood.

“Oh good,” she said, her smile faltering as she noticed his movement. “Did a bludger get you?”

“Yeah I dropped the bat, but the bludger didn’t care.”

“Mate, I’ve told you a thousand times to wear the wrist strap,” Ron groaned.

“And I’ve told _you_ a thousand times it irritates my wrist.” Harry filled his plate with food, regretting the bludger incident entirely.

“That’s why you wrap -”

“Please can we not have this conversation yet again?” Hermione broke in. She gave them all a tight smile. “It’s supposed to be ugly weather this weekend. We should probably make plans that don’t involve Hogsmeade.”

“Please don’t suggest the library,” Ron mumbled, crossing his fingers with a pleading look.

Hermione laughed and bumped their shoulders together. “I’m open to suggestions.”

Harry filled his plate with mixed vegetables and roast pork. “I’m planning on sleeping. Loads. In my nice, quiet room. The soundproofing on the walls has been brilliant.”

“I’ll be joining Potter,” Malfoy said. “Especially since the walls are soundproof.” Ron spluttered on his food, while Hermione looked on in mild shock. Malfoy laughed, seeming to enjoy their dumbfounded faces. “Easier to ask our questions, you know,” he said snidely. “Speaking of which.” He flicked his wand, “ _Accio_ conversation book. You want to ask first?” he asked Harry.

When Harry shook his head no, Malfoy flipped through the pages. “Let’s see… What’s your most embarrassing story about being sick? Oh Merlin, I’ve got a good one. I’m six years old, at my parents’ _massive_ anniversary party and, of course, no one was monitoring the children very closely so I must have eaten about a hundred of these little date-filled biscuits.”

His whole face lit up as he told his story, and Harry couldn’t help but smile at mischievous little Draco eating biscuits on the sly. Harry knew all about eating on the sly. “I was bouncing off the walls on a brilliant sugar high. And then, right in the middle of my father’s toast to my mother, I vomit up a hundred date-filled biscuits.”

Draco snorted a laugh at the memory, while Hermione shared a horrified look with Harry. “It was disgusting and red and was just, fucking _everywhere_. I passed out almost immediately after, which probably saved me from Father’s retribution for sure. Oh,” Draco wiped a fake tear, “memories… I couldn’t eat those biscuits for _years_ after. Anyway, what about you?”

Harry gave Draco a half smile, “One time I dropped my beater’s bat and a bludger knocked into my face. Blood gushed like mad, but Madam Pomfrey patched me up.” He tapped his nose. “Right as rain.”

“That doesn’t count,” Malfoy said, rolling his eyes. “Something embarrassing.”

“I don’t have one,” Harry said, turning back to his food.

“Of course you do. It’s okay, they’ll all share too. Granger, Weasley? Embarrassing stories to share?”

Hermione gave Harry a sympathetic pat on the arm. “When I was in primary school, I had a panic about a vaccine - it’s a preventative medicine of sorts,” she explained to Malfoy.

He gave her a tight smile. “We have vaccines in the wizarding world too.”

“Right, well, muggle ones are given in an injection and I hated needles and - I cried in class, and everyone thought it was hilarious.”

“Ugh, that’s horrible. Our vaccines are drinkable but they usually taste like piss. An injection might be preferable. Okay Potter, now you.”

“I said I don’t have one.”

“I know you’re lying. You’re supposed to be _sharing_ so we can get to know one another. I thought you wanted this to work?”

Harry gave him a sickly-sweet smile. “One time I let my guard down and a fucking arsehole stomped on my face, breaking my nose. That was a pretty shit time.”

Malfoy pursed his lips and raised one brow. “Interesting. Again, not embarrassing, unless you add in that you were blatantly eavesdropping where you had no business and were caught out. Still, I don’t think that’s in the spirit of the question. Something from when you were young. Before Hogwarts and our shared history.”

Harry licked his lips while he stared at his plate, memories long buried washing up and choking him into silence. A silence borne of long habit, when talking about it only made it worse.

“Malfoy, really, he doesn’t have to say if he doesn’t want to,” Ron said. “Find something else. What do you want to be when you grow up? _Professional Git_ is not a thing so...”

“Sod off, Weasley.” Malfoy elbowed Harry. “Come on, spill. Did you sneeze snot all over yourself? Spill soup during a coughing fit? Oh! Were you a bedwetter?” Malfoy laughed, and it froze Harry’s insides as he remembered the one and only time he wet his mattress.

“No, I wasn’t,” Harry said slowly. “I rarely slept through the night until I got to Hogwarts. And then… well I rarely sleep through the night.”

“So what was it then? Must be good if you’re holding it this close. I promise not to blab about your embarrassing stories once we’ve parted ways.”

“Just ask something else.”

“No, I want this one!”

“Well I’m not answering because it’s stupid. My childhood was one horrible moment after another. Honestly, no one thing sticks out. So just… let’s move on.”

“One time I got the flu -” Ron began, but Malfoy cut him off.

“I’m not letting this go,” he said sharply. “Tell me because if we’re giving this a go, I deserve to know about you.”

Harry threw his fork down. “But we’re not giving this a go, are we? You’re just needling me and fucking around and then you’re going to leave at the end of it. Isn’t that right?” He stood in a rush. “This is bullshit and I’m done. Fuck off back to your life without me.”

He stormed out of the castle, determined to run until it hurt to breathe. With the air so bitter cold, it didn’t take long for Harry to fall gasping to his knees. It fucking _hurt_ to think of those years. All those tiny slights, the ugly words, the blind eye to Dudley and his gang, the food he wasn’t allowed, the clothing that never fitted. All the times they indicated in word and deed that they didn’t want him.

And now he had a soulmate that didn’t want him either.


	3. Plan B: dating

It rained that weekend, just as Hermione said it would, and Harry hated how it kept them all inside. It made avoiding Malfoy all the more difficult. For now, he could enjoy the relative peace of a mostly-empty common room. He didn’t even care where Malfoy was or what he was doing. So long as he did it without Harry.

“Are you _sure_ you want to give up already?” Hermione asked tentatively, hugging her book to her chest instead of reading it.

Ron, at her side, nodded in agreement. “You only gave it two days.”

“How many times are you going to ask me about this?” Harry grumbled at the ceiling.

“Until we get a satisfactory answer.”

Harry slumped down in his chair, glancing around the common room to be sure Malfoy wasn’t nearby to hear. “It’s just…” Harry licked his lips and tried to organise the thoughts that had been bouncing around his head for the last few days. “I don’t want some random potion and a magical red string to make decisions for me, all right?”

“It’s not making a decision _for_ you,” Hermione said, setting her book aside to lean forward eagerly. “It’s pointing the way out to you.”

“Maybe you’d be happy if you gave it a better chance,” Ron said.

Harry scowled at them. “That’s easy for you both to say - the string tied you together. But imagine it didn’t. Say Hermione’s string wandered off to Theodore Nott instead. Would you still be going on about how wonderful it all is?”

Hermione took Ron’s hand and smiled, “Maybe not. Maybe we would defy the string and stay together.” She leaned into the kiss Ron planted on her cheek.

“We could still be happy,” Ron agreed. “We worked before the string and we could continue on, no matter what it said.”

“That’s a big, fat lie. You’d be happy, maybe, but you’d always be wondering if you’d be happier somewhere else. Hermione would be wondering why Nott. Ron would be wondering about who his someone else was. That little voice would whisper in the back of your mind, driving you mad until it drove you apart.”

“That’s very cynical, Harry,” Hermione said.

“And accurate. The string changes a person and I don’t like it, which is why I didn’t want to drink it in the first place.”

Hermione sighed and returned to her book. Harry let his gaze drift across the room to Anthony and Megan sitting at a table together with textbooks and parchments everywhere. They didn’t look much like a couple to Harry. They sat next to each other, but not near enough to touch. Their open smiles hid no promises for later. They didn’t exchange kisses or hold hands. Harry knew Anthony wasn’t big on touching. He didn’t use his elbow or hands to get someone’s attention, or offer pats on the back. How would he manage with a girlfriend?

Harry shrugged it off to worry about later, noticing Malfoy coming in with Nott. He said goodnight to Hermione and Ron to escape to his room. He sighed at the desk in the corner and transfigured it yet again to a drum set. The red string must still be tangling his thoughts, because the spell turned out a vibrant red set of drums.

Without rhythm or composition, Harry let the cacophony roll through him and drown everything out until he could manage sleep for a little while.

\--------

After three days of avoiding Malfoy, Harry thought he’d made it pretty clear that their odd little fling had ended. And yet, there stood Malfoy on Monday morning, asking Neville to move over so he could sit next to Harry.

“He’s not moving,” Harry said. “Just sit somewhere else.”

“But I need to talk to you. It’s important!”

“I’m not interested.”

Neville took Harry’s words as his cue. “Yeah, I’ve already served my food and everything. Sit somewhere else.”

“Fine,” Malfoy said tersely. He sat on Neville’s other side and served himself some eggs. “We need to give this thing between us another go.”

“No, thank you.” That potion was the bane of his existence. At the earliest opportunity, he was going to hex Slughorn’s favourite chair in the teacher’s lounge into toothpicks in revenge.

Malfoy leaned around Neville while buttering a slice of toast. “I’m not happy about it either but everyone is afraid to fuck me and so now you’re all I have left if I ever want to get laid again.”

Neville choked on his toast. “Bloody hell, Malfoy. I changed my mind. You can have this seat.”

“It’s too late,” Malfoy scoffed, “I’m already here.” But he scooted his plate over when Neville left anyway. 

“Go away, Malfoy. I don’t care about your -” Harry gestured vaguely with a sour look, “little problem.”

Malfoy smirked. “It’s not _little_ but you already knew that.”

“We’re trying to eat here, Malfoy!” Ron said, rolling his eyes.

“Look, ever since you got your mysterious package in a long, slender box -”

“Those were my drumsticks.”

“- everyone is sure you have a new, more powerful wand that you will blast them to pieces with if you catch me with them.”

“It was drumsticks.” Harry cursed his fate once again. Why couldn’t Malfoy have been tied to some pureblood Slytherin? Wasn’t it supposed to be someone with similar experiences or whatever? Surely another wealthy, spoiled pureblood would serve Malfoy better.

“No one cares! They know I ‘belong’ to you and they aren’t going to risk an _expelliarmus_ of doom if they take what’s yours. So… congratulations, you’ve earned my undying love, just like that!” He snapped his fingers to emphasise his words.

“We could stage a public break-up, if that’ll help,” Harry said with a shrug. “But I’m not fucking around with you just because a potion told me to and I’m the best of what’s left for you.”

“But we didn’t even try! Maybe we have loads in common and we just didn’t know it.”

Harry rolled his eyes with a sigh, thinking of Draco’s overindulgence at a fancy party. Gatherings at Privet Drive had him at Mrs Figg’s, or hidden in the spare room. “We both know that isn’t true -”

“You said you’d give it a week and we didn’t. It was just a few days! Give me a week -”

“Public break-up it is,” Harry said, rising to his feet. He shoved Malfoy and half-yelled, “I’m sick of you! Stop bothering me, because this isn’t going to work, all right? Find someone else!” He gave Malfoy a secret half-wink and stormed out of the Great Hall.

He sat far apart from Malfoy in class, ignoring Hermione’s admonishing look when she came in. She dragged him to a quiet spot after class, with Ron right behind her.

“What was that with Malfoy, Harry?” she demanded.

Harry ruffled his hair in agitation. “What did it look like? I refused his shitty advances. Is that so hard to believe? Malfoy is an arse!” He crossed his arms defensively. “Why is this so important to you anyway? Can’t you give it a rest?”

Hermione sighed and met Ron’s eyes. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and gave Harry a hesitant smile. “Harry, mate… it’s, you know, since we came back, you’ve been so…” He looked to Hermione to finish.

“Despondent,” she said promptly. “This potion, the string, the bubbling rage at Malfoy. It’s the first time since we came back that you’ve been…”

“It’s nice to see you feeling something other than depressed,” Ron finished.

“So… you’re saying I should date Malfoy because the rage he makes me feel is good?”

“Not _good_ ,” Ron said, “just… different. You seem alive and alert again. And maybe the string tied you together because he… makes you feel things.” He cringed at his own words, and Harry had to laugh.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “He _means_ that Malfoy has always got under your skin like no one else and that maybe what you need right now is someone that challenges you, Harry.”

“We know he’s a git. And he’s selfish. And annoying. And so fucking spoiled. And he fought on the wrong side. And he -”

“Are there any positives in your list?” Harry interrupted.

Ron shrugged with a grin. “Probably not. And if you _really_ don't want to pursue it, that’s fine too. But we think you rejected him as a knee-jerk reaction because Malfoy is Malfoy. Imagine it had been Anthony or Neville you were paired with. You’d at least try and find out why, right?”

“That’s all we’re asking, Harry. Find out a little about him and judge him on that. Not what he was before.” Hermione reached for his hand and gave his fingers a squeeze. “It’s a good chance to explore your own thoughts and maybe… learn who you are now too.”

Harry looked down at their joined hands. “I - I guess I can think about it.”

Ron patted him on the back, and then pulled Hermione in for a three-way hug. “My babies are going to call him Uncle Draco, aren’t they? Why did fate do this to me?”

They all broke into laughter. Harry shook his head, “I’m happy you’ve put it all into proper perspective.”

\--------

Harry did think about it for the rest of the day. If he’d been paired with anyone else, how would that feel? Anthony had become a good friend during the last few months of a shared common room and a shared cauldron in Potions. They’d had many early morning chats about the war and all that came after. He couldn’t imagine any kind of physical intimacy with Anthony, but he could see them in a flat together enjoying quiet evenings at home. The same with Neville, really. 

Malfoy couldn’t be more different. He drove Harry mad with his loud, obnoxious chatter and fussy manners. Granted, he kept Harry on his toes with the back and forth insults. There would be no quiet, complacent days at home with someone like Malfoy around. Would that be exhausting? Or exciting?

He worried about their physical compatibility too. While kissing had been nice, Harry hadn’t enjoyed the rest of it all that much. Malfoy made it clear he wanted Harry for sex and he didn’t know if he was ready for that. He’d given Hermione’s book a brief skim and some of it looked interesting. But he definitely needed to take things slower. Could Malfoy be patient enough with Harry’s inexperience?

Too nervous about people seeing them together during the day, Harry waited until nearly midnight to approach Malfoy. He crept down the dim hallway to Malfoy’s room and knocked gently. Pressing his ear to the door, he heard rustling from inside. Then the door opened a tiny crack, until Malfoy saw who knocked.

He frowned at Harry but opened the door wider anyway. “What do you want?”

Harry didn’t know what to make of Malfoy in navy blue silk pyjamas. Posh git. Harry should have stayed in his jeans and t-shirt instead of changing into his old, worn pyjamas. “Can I come in?” he asked. 

Malfoy pursed his lips. “I suppose,” he said reluctantly.

Harry closed the door behind him and glanced around Malfoy’s surprisingly neat room. But with house elves to clean up each day, none of their rooms managed to get very messy. “Did you have any luck today? After our break-up at breakfast?”

“Not really, no.” Malfoy crossed his arms and glared at Harry. “Come to rub it in?”

“No, actually, I came to apologise.”

“Oh, well then…” Malfoy gestured magnanimously. “Please continue.”

Harry sat at Malfoy’s desk chair. “I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he began.

A wide grin split Malfoy’s face and he plopped himself across Harry’s lap. “I knew it,” he said right before drawing Harry into a deep kiss.

Harry’s hands naturally fell to Malfoy’s thighs, and he slid them up higher to feel the silk under his fingertips. He got lost in the sensation for a moment, then remembered why he came. “No,” Harry said, pulling away. “No, Malfoy that’s not -”

Malfoy launched himself to his feet. “Damn it! What do you _want_?” It amazed Harry how he could go from glaring, to smiling, then glaring again all in the space of seconds. “If you don’t want me, why are you even here?”

“It’s not - it’s not that I don’t want _you_ , Malfoy. It’s that…” There was really no way to phrase this delicately. “I didn’t want a soulmate at all.”

Malfoy threw his hands into the air, huffing out a loud breath. “It’s the same fucking thing!”

“No it isn’t.” Haltingly, Harry pulled his words together. “I - I grew up - with people that… That only kept me because they _had_ to. And… it sucked. More than you would believe. So…” He bit his lip and tried to look Malfoy in the eye, but couldn’t quite manage it. “I can’t handle having a soulmate that’s only with me because they have to be.”

“I _am_ with you voluntarily! You’re all I have left.”

“No, Malfoy, you’re not getting it. If we were any two boys… any two people trying to date, it would be different. We wouldn’t have a time limit on it. Wouldn’t be insulting each other at every turn. We would be - putting our best foot forward, right? Trying to be nice and getting to know each other.”

“You think I’m mean and don’t already know everything about you?”

“I think you’re prickly and that maybe since last May we’ve both changed a lot. I’m not -” Harry gestured to the hallway, “everything they say I am. Stands to reason you aren’t either.”

“So, what then? We play your little questions game?”

“It’s a start? This won’t work if we’re both looking to run at the first opportunity. We have to choose this. Because we _want_ it, not because it’s the only option available.”

Malfoy pursed his lips, tapping his fingers against his arm. He looked like he might chuck Harry out. Instead of pushing the point, Harry sat quietly and let Malfoy think it over. 

“What about sex?” Malfoy finally said. “You didn’t seem all that interested before.” His sour face made Harry think he’d hurt Malfoy’s feelings the other day.

“I’m willing… up to a point. I don’t have much experience - Ginny and I just kissed a bit - so I want to take things slow. But…” Harry felt his face redden. “I’m willing to learn.”

“Fine,” Malfoy sighed heavily. “I guess I’ll take it.” 

“Excellent. We’ll start fresh tomorrow.” Harry stood and held his hand out to shake. Malfoy grasped his hand to pull Harry in for another kiss, this one much rougher and angrier than the earlier one. Harry softened his responses until Malfoy followed suit. Lightly he ran his fingers down Malfoy’s back, over the silk shirt. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a while longer?” Malfoy asked with a tiny whine in his voice.

Harry grinned. “Maybe tomorrow. I like your jammies.”

“Of course you do, they’re tailored to fit, instead of,” he gestured to all of Harry, “whatever’s going on here.”

“These work well enough.” He looked down at his pyjama bottoms and poked his finger in the hole by the side seam. “I get tired of tailoring charms. They never stick well enough.”

“First thing this weekend we’re going shopping. I would never date someone that dresses like you do.” He opened the door. “I’ll see you at breakfast. Goodnight, Potter.”

“Oh, that’s another thing. You’re going to call me ‘Harry’ now.” He gave Malfoy a quick peck on the cheek. “Goodnight, Draco.”

With another exasperated sigh, he shut the door behind Harry.

\--------

Draco.

Draco Malfoy.

Draco was Harry’s boyfriend. Harry had a boyfriend and his name was Draco.

“You look chipper this morning,” Hermione said as they met up in the common room.

Harry’s grin widened. “I talked with Draco last night.” He’d slept rather well as a result, and eagerly looked forward to the day ahead. He liked having a project to work on. 

“Draco?” Ron asked, giving Hermione a blatantly significant look.

“We’re going to give things a try. A real try.” He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. “I guess I’m excited about it.”

“That’s great news!” Hermione gave him a quick hug. “At least, I hope it’s good news. Are you giving it a week?”

“No, I told him I wanted to pretend we were any two people starting to date. We would, you know, be nice to each other and get to know each other.” He shrugged again. “We’ll see how it goes.”

“Are you going to walk to breakfast together?”

“Yeah. You two can go on without me though.”

Ron squeezed his arm. “Good luck. We’ll save you two seats.”

Harry felt at loose ends waiting in the common room so he knocked on Draco’s door. He didn’t expect to find Draco shirtless and barefoot with a toothbrush in his mouth. Draco waved him inside with his free hand and closed the door behind Harry.

“Why aren’t you brushing your teeth in the bathroom?” Harry asked. Who brushed their teeth without a sink? He sat in the desk chair, so Draco wouldn’t get ideas about Harry in his bed.

Draco stood in front of his open wardrobe, looking at his reflection in a mirror on the door while he brushed. He spat into a small wooden bowl. “Good morning to you too.” He filled a mug with water from his wand, rinsed his mouth and spat into the bowl again. Then he vanished the entire mess and wiped his mouth with a flannel. “I avoid the bathroom when I can.” 

Harry flushed at that, wondering if it was a dig at their sixth year incident. But Draco didn’t seem to notice. He folded the flannel neatly, set it in the bowl, then put the bowl and toothbrush on the shelf in the wardrobe. 

“Now then…” Draco said with a smile. He trailed his fingers up Harry’s thighs, chest and around his neck as he sat on Harry’s lap. “Let’s have a proper good morning.”

Harry melted into the kiss, tentatively wrapping his arms around Draco. His skin was cool to the touch and he moaned as Harry’s much warmer hand splayed across his back. But then Draco began to unfasten Harry’s school robes, and Harry pushed him back.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking your robes off?” Draco answered, tugging at the next button. “Aren’t we going to fool around?”

Harry covered Draco’s hands with his own, to stop his motions. “Erm, no? We’re going to breakfast.”

Draco closed his eyes with a quiet sigh. “Then why are you here so early?”

“Because I was dressed and ready for the day and I thought we’d walk down to breakfast together.”

Draco stood and gave Harry a once over, his brows drawing down. “So… you’re ready for the day, then?”

“Erm, yes?” Harry refastened his school robes, unsure what might be wrong with the standard uniform and his usual trainers.

“Do you even _try_ with your hair, or have you given up entirely?”

So much for being nice to each other, Harry thought as his heart sank. He ran his fingers through his hair. “It kind of does its own thing,” he said with a shrug.

Draco pulled a glass bottle from the shelf of his wardrobe and shook a few drops of a clear liquid from it into his hand. “Can we try this?” he asked, just before running his slick fingers through Harry’s hair. His fingers scraped lightly along Harry’s scalp and then, without warning, his lips met Harry’s.

Harry made a startled sound but opened to the kiss anyway. He liked the familiar warmth spreading through him, and the soft pressure of Draco’s lips. Even his gentle kisses were aggressive, nibbling lightly at Harry’s lips. 

“Mm,” Draco said, pulling away, “much better.” He ran his fingers through Harry’s curls one more time. “Now you can look ‘just shagged’ instead of ‘bird’s nest.’ Are you _sure_ you don’t want to fool around?”

“Maybe later,” Harry said, wriggling nervously in the desk chair. “Do you mind me being here? Should I have gone on to the Great Hall without you?”

Draco set his shoes side by side and aimed a spell at them to shine the leather before putting them on. “It’s fine, I suppose. I’m just not a very early riser.” He tied one shoe, then the other, then re-tied the first shoe one more time. 

“You’re a night owl?”

“You could say that.” After putting on a thin vest, he shook out a crisp, white shirt and aimed another spell at it to iron out non-existent wrinkles before buttoning it with extreme focus.

He didn’t elaborate, so Harry let the subject drop and watched Draco get dressed in silence. A waistcoat and tie followed the shirt, and then his school robes underwent a careful inspection and the ironing spell. 

“Why all those fussy layers when no one can even see them?”

Draco re-tied his right shoe a third time. “I’m more comfortable in ‘all those fussy layers.’” He walked the length of the room to test the fit of his shoes. Then he emptied his backpack and repacked the entire thing, exactly as it was.

“All right, I’m ready,” he said, shouldering his bag. He smoothed the duvet on his bed, and nodded.

“Great, let’s go,” Harry responded, holding out his hand to Draco. Draco eyed it suspiciously, making Harry laugh. “Couples hold hands, yeah?”

“Right, of course.” Draco laced his fingers with Harry’s. He hesitated at the door, closing his eyes for a moment. Squaring his shoulders he opened the door and led them out.

As promised, Hermione and Ron had saved them seats. Neither of them commented on how long they’d taken to arrive, although Ron did laugh when Hermione said, “Your hair looks… different Harry.” She smothered a smile and Harry shook his head, also silently laughing.

“Of course it does,” Draco said, “someone actually gave it some attention.” He served himself eggs and fruit salad, while Harry reached for a plate of bacon. “Are we going to work on your conversation book?”

“Sure, why not?” Harry dug through the scrolls and books in his bag until he found the slender volume. “Do you want to go first?” Draco shrugged, and Harry took that as a ‘no.’ “What is a luxury that you treat yourself to? I don’t know. Flying? Do we count that as a treat?”

“That’s not a treat,” Draco scoffed. “It’s a hobby you do almost daily. This is something special that you only do occasionally. For example, I eat the chocolates from Honeydukes frequently but every so often I treat myself to handmade chocolates from the village near our summer chateau in Switzerland.”

Harry’s ire from the past few days rose up to choke him. He rolled his eyes at his plate. “Chocolates from Switzerland. Honestly, what the fuck does this string think we have in common?”

Draco’s back stiffened. “We don’t know yet.” He snatched the book from Harry. “This question isn’t working.” His eyes scanned the page. “What childhood pet did you have or long for? Ugh, we had the peacocks, of course.” He set the book down and kept talking. “The Abraxan horses, but I wasn’t allowed near them. I had a crup for a while, but then it pissed on the rug in Mother’s favourite parlour and I never saw it again. Oh, and a tiny chinchilla - the softest thing you ever petted. It would ride around in my pocket. But I also had two milk snakes, and one of them made a dinner of poor Lumpy. Then I went to Hogwarts and had an owl, but he never felt like a pet. What about you?”

Harry blinked several times. “Er… just an owl. Hedwig. When I came to school. But she died.” It still hurt, remembering the sudden flash of light and her body lying still at the bottom of her cage. He took a bite of eggs, although they were tasteless and stuck in his throat.

“What about before school? Did you have a pet? Or want one?”

“My aunt Petunia would _never_ let an animal sully her home. There were no pets. Although I did share space with a few friendly spiders.”

Ron shuddered, “Do _not_ get me started on how many ways spiders are not pets.” Hermione laughed and elbowed him lightly.

“Certainly not!” Draco agreed, surprising them all by supporting Ron. “Why wouldn’t you just squash them?”

Harry was not about to say, ‘Some company was better than no company,’ out loud at the breakfast table. Instead he just shrugged and stuffed his mouth with toast, a colossal mistake when swallowing had already become difficult. But a coughing fit and a scramble to get him a glass of water distracted everyone well enough.

On their walk to class, Harry again reached for Draco’s hand. He stiffened, but let Harry hold it anyway. When they’d nearly reached the potions lab, Harry let Ron and Hermione get ahead of them so he could pull Draco into a small alcove.

“Is everything all right?” Harry asked. Breakfast hadn’t gone as he’d hoped, but surely not badly enough that Draco was already mad at him.

“This is… very different.” Draco glanced down at their joined hands and dropped Harry’s hand. “I don’t typically _date_. I’m more accustomed to snogging in - well, in alcoves like this. It’ll take time to figure out this part of things.”

“Okay,” Harry said softly, that sinking feeling hitting him again. “Erm… how do I help? What would make this easier for you?”

Instead of a verbal response, Draco kissed him with a moan. A desperate moan. He pressed Harry to the wall and ravished his mouth greedily. Harry didn’t quite know what was going on, but let it happen nonetheless. He wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist and relaxed, hoping some of the tension would ease from Draco’s body as well.

When the kisses became nuzzling and soft, Harry whispered, “Better now?”

Draco nodded and gave him one more chaste kiss. “We’re going to be late for Potions.” 

He didn’t take Harry’s hand as they walked. Harry followed his cue and walked silently at his side. They went to their usual tables, neither suggesting they pair up for class. Anthony threw Harry a concerned look, but Slughorn’s lecture prevented Harry from having to answer any unspoken questions.

As class went on, Draco lost the pinched, stiff look on his face. He replaced it with his bored sneer, so maybe not a huge improvement. But it at least brought Harry’s attention to just how strange Draco had been before and after breakfast. Was dating Harry so difficult?

Of course not. Not after less than a single day. Unless they counted the few days from last week? Or the years of antagonism that came before it? Harry grew more and more disheartened the longer he dwelt on it. How was this meant to work between them? They just needed to spend more time together, get used to one another.

So when Draco turned to Harry at the end of class and said, “Theo and I are going to the library before lunch,” Harry immediately said, “I can come too. Maybe work on my Charms essay.”

There was that stiff frown again. “Well,” Draco said slowly, his eyes darting to Nott. “You might find it very boring, if we’re working on Potions and you’re not.”

“Nonsense. I’ll be working on my own thing. It won’t matter you’re working on something different.”

“But what if you have questions?”

“I’ll save them for Hermione.”

“Or what if we’re talking about Potions and it distracts you?”

From behind Draco, Hermione’s owl eyes bore into him, jarring him into the realisation that Draco didn’t want him to go to the library. And it stung, this small, stupid rejection. “Right, sure. I didn’t think of that. I guess I’ll see you at lunch?”

Draco’s shoulders relaxed a fraction and nodded. “Certainly.” He hesitated again, then leaned over the table to give Harry an awkward kiss on the cheek. He yanked Nott’s arm, ignoring the way the other boy laughed at the two of them, and hurried out the door.

Harry slowly packed his potions kit to give Draco time to get away, cringing when he heard Ron say, “Wow, mate, that was -”

“Don’t. Please just don’t,” Harry sighed. But he couldn’t hold back his laugh when met with Ron’s red-faced smile. “Okay maybe a little.”

“Damn, you desperate, clingy numpty! He almost had to paint you a sign.”

Even Anthony joined in. “Imagine that! He could have just -” He waved his wand through the air and large sparkling letters spelled out _No, thank you_ , which made Hermione break out into loud giggles.

“Oh Harry,” she laughed, “What was that?”

“I don’t know, I panicked.” Even as frustrating as it all felt, at least they could all laugh about it. “He seemed so happy to not see me for a while.” He bit his lip and looked at all three of them. “Is that bad?”

“No, it’s fine,” Hermione said, “all couples need a break from one another.”

“You and Ron don’t seem to need breaks from one another.”

The two of them shared a smile, that sent an unexpected wave of jealousy through Harry. Especially when they both reached to join hands. “It happens though,” Hermione insisted. “When you boys go flying, or I have a project to work on with some quiet. It’s okay to spend time apart. We’ll see him at lunch.”

“Where should we go now?” Ron asked. “We’re usually at the library before lunch but we can’t do that now.” He gave Harry a thumbs up, grinning widely.

“We can work in the common room just as easily,” came Hermione’s prim response.

Ron sighed dramatically. “Of _course_ we can…”

\--------

When Harry got to the Great Hall for lunch, Draco was already sitting across from Nott in their usual spots. Harry went to their end of the table, only mildly surprised that Ron and Hermione followed him. Draco’s eyes widened, but then his features smoothed into a bland, uncaring face.

“Did you enjoy the rest of your morning?” Draco asked politely as they sat.

Harry shrugged. “Same as usual.” He squeezed Draco’s hand. “You? Get a lot done in the library?”

“Not as much as I’d hoped,” Draco said, his words clipped.

Picking up on the anger building in the tense body next to him, Harry fell into silence. He cut a large bite of shepherd’s pie, but then he remembered what Draco said about table manners. Not wanting to upset him further, Harry cut it into two smaller bites and chewed slowly. Oh, shepherd’s pie. That wasn’t even remotely vegetarian. But Draco had a bowl of sauteed vegetables and chickpeas in some kind of sauce, two thick flatbreads, and slices of white cheese.

“That looks good,” Harry said. “How did you get a special lunch?”

“I asked for it. I went to the kitchens and talked with the elves about - my dietary changes. They send up something special to this end of the table when the meal is meat-based.”

“Oh, good to know.”

They lapsed into awkward silence again until Hermione piped up with chatter about their afternoon Charms class. She and Ron carried most of the conversation, leaving Harry to brood about the emotional upheaval of the day. After months of bland days that bled into one another, his stomach churned over all the new emotions. 

When even Hermione had run out of things to say, Harry asked, “Are you interested in taking a walk after Charms? We could run through more questions?” Privacy might make the questions easier to answer.

“Do you mean talk about things like we went flying the other day?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “If we have to.”

Draco cracked his first smile of the day. “Excellent. Then yes, I’d love to take a walk with you.” 

Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry with curious faces but he shook off their questions before they could be asked. He found it difficult to focus in class, too worried about what the afternoon might entail. Especially when Hermione whispered, “Has the other book been helpful as well?”

Ron plugged his ears and shook his head. “Don’t. Answer. That,” he whispered in a sing-song voice.

“One step at a time, Hermione,” Harry said, hoping that would be enough to placate her.

Finally, class ended and he could escape with Draco. As soon as the fresh air hit his face, Harry inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Thank fuck we’re done with classes for the day.” He unfastened his robes as they walked, eager to shed the extra layer.

“No kidding. Come on, the boat house is usually empty this time of day.”

Harry didn’t ask how Malfoy knew that and instead followed him behind the boat house to a grove of trees that offered both privacy and fresh air. Malfoy set a few charms to repel anyone wandering by and then pulled Harry in for a kiss. 

That warmth spread through Harry again and he wanted to melt into it, but in the back of his mind lurked a worry that someone would see them, despite the wards. But Draco looked so happy for once. So he took off his robe when Draco did, and set their things in a neat pile. He tried to relax when Draco pressed him against a tree and ran his hand down Harry’s hip.

“What if someone sees?” Harry asked.

“They won’t. There are wards.” Draco kissed him again, then worked Harry’s jeans open. “I’ve never been caught here before.”

A hot swoop of jealousy washed out his growing desire. Just how many people had Draco brought here? It seemed a poor time to ask. But was there a good time to ask? Harry gently pushed Draco’s hands from his zip. “I just want to kiss you.”

Draco groaned and dropped his head to Harry’s shoulder. “Are you fucking serious? You said we could fool around.” 

“I know, but that was before you mentioned bringing other people here.” 

Stepping back from Harry, Draco threw his hands up in the air. “Oh I’m so sorry to have popped your denial bubble, Potter -” he yelled, tugging angrily at his tie to loosen it.

“It’s Harry,” he grumbled.

“But I’m no blushing virgin, all right? And I’m not about to apologise for it to you.”

“It’s not - I don’t care if you’ve been with someone else,” Harry said. “It’s the idea that I… I’m just some random fuck to you.”

Draco slowly blinked at him, disbelief all over his face. “Wow. I am - utterly speechless.” He rubbed his eyes and sighed. “I literally have no response to that.” He walked a few paces away from Harry, then turned suddenly, with an ugly glare. “You know what? Fuck you and all your expectations. I was happy enough going on with my life without you. Do you know how hard I had to work to be on speaking terms with some of these people? Then you show up with a few questions and kisses and now they’re all afraid to be alone with me, no matter how innocent the context.” He kicked hard at a nearby tree and growled. “You are literally the only person left on this earth that will fuck me, and you think I’m not taking this seriously enough?”

“Well you haven’t been very nice to me,” Harry muttered, crossing his arms defensively.

“Yeah, weird, right? Almost as if I was formed by six years of antagonism and that maybe I can’t let it go in a single week. Or maybe I’ve never had a serious relationship and this shift takes some getting used to. Maybe I need to blow off steam and have something normal to get me through all these hoops you keep making me jump through!”

“I’m not making you jump through any hoops!”

“No? Answer your questions? Give you my time, my attention, my life, my everything? We had a deal. I would date you, you would have sex with me. Or did I get it wrong? Didn’t you say you were willing to learn?”

“I - erm - technically yes, but -”

“But what?”

“I thought taking it slow would be slower than this. It’s only been a day and you want to -” he gestured dramatically at the space between them. Realising his jeans were half unzipped, Harry hurried to fasten them.

“It’s been all our fucking lives, Harry! You think there’s shit I don’t know about you? Things that book will help us discover that will magically make this work? Go on then. I’m all ears. Tell me how knowing your favourite colour will suddenly make us the best of friends.”

Harry shook his head, choking on the thick well of regret and rage in his chest. “I thought it would be easier than this,” he said softly.

“Yeah, well, it isn’t.” Draco picked up his robe and his backpack. “You may think I’m some kind of slag, fucking around all the time, but I assure you, I take all of this very seriously. And if you’re not having a good time, then I’m not interested. The red string may have tied us together but it doesn’t mean we have to be tied together right now. Maybe we’re meant to wait a few years.”

“So that’s it? We’re done, then?”

“For today at least.”

Harry nodded, and let Draco walk away. He sunk to the ground, hugging his knees to his chest. He’d been a fool to think this would work. Too many obstacles stood between them, and they couldn’t just brush it aside with a game of ‘let’s pretend we’re dating.’ Maybe Draco was right and they should give themselves more time. The red string didn’t say _when_ they would fall in love, only that they would eventually. Who even knew if that piece of shit potion even worked? Wouldn’t that be something, if he wasn’t really meant to be tied to Harry at all. 

That was it! The potion had obviously made a mistake. Even if the other couples seemed to be working out, obviously Harry and _Draco Malfoy_ weren’t really meant to be together forever. Trying not to draw suspicious eyes, Harry walked slowly to the Potions corridor. He had to wait for the afternoon class to be let out, but he didn’t mind.

Slughorn, as usual, was happy to see him. “Mr Potter! Is there something I can help you with?”

“Er, yes, Professor… I was wondering about the Red Strings potion -”

Slughorn’s face fell. “Ah yes, odd turn of events, was it not?”

“Definitely odd. I was thinking… there might have been a mistake? With Malfoy’s potion?” He turned a hopeful smile on Slughorn, but didn’t get one in return.

“I tested all the potions myself, Mr Potter, and I assure I found no fault with any of them.” He gave Harry an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry things didn’t turn out as you wished.”

“It’s just so strange, don’t you think? That Malfoy and I could be tied together? I was hoping, sir… if you had any of the potion left, maybe I could take it and just - double check the results?”

“I’ll admit, I did wonder if a mistake had been made and consequently…” He waved his wand over his desk and a light ping sounded in the air. He opened a drawer filled with tightly stoppered bottles, all bearing potions of different colors. “Let me see…” He lifted two or three, finally locating the bottle with a creamy blue potion inside. “Here you are.”

Harry took the bottle, noticing the label with his and Anthony’s names on it. “Thank you, Professor.”

“Best of luck to you this time, Mr Potter.”

Harry pocketed the vial and returned to his room to hide it in a safe location. Obviously he couldn’t take it during the day, when everyone would see his string. He’d have to wait until later in the evening, long after bedtime. 

No one said anything to Harry when he sat at the opposite end of the table at dinner. Although Hermione looked full to bursting with questions. His sour face and the alarming rate at which he downed his food spoke volumes enough.

In his room, he stared at the vial until nearly midnight. He waited another hour and a half, remembering what Malfoy said about being a night owl. How late did he stay up?

It didn’t matter because the string wouldn’t lead to him anyway.

When he couldn’t take the suspense any longer, Harry downed the blue potion. The silky, sugary liquid slid down his throat and burst in his chest with a pleasant heat that pooled in his right ring finger. A small bow formed and then the string grew, dropping to the floor and leading out his door. Taking a deep breath, he followed it into the corridor.

Three doors down, it took a sharp turn.

Harry stopped a few feet away, staring at the spot where the string disappeared under Malfoy’s door. Prickling behind his eyes made them burn and a heavy lump rose in his throat. The feeling only intensified when the door flew open and Malfoy stood scowling in the doorway.

He held his hand out to show Harry the bow on his finger. For several moments, neither of them said anything.

“I thought you’d be sleeping,” Harry said quietly.

“Well I wasn’t.”

He tried to smile, but could feel the tremble in his lips. He ran a finger over the red loops, watching them swoop and reform. “I just had to be sure.”

“And do you feel better now?”

What started as a simple head shake began to quake through his entire body. In the blink of an eye, he was surrounded by Draco - his forehead pressed to the silk shirt, arms wrapped tightly around him, and a soft voice in his ear shushing him gently. Somehow they ended up in Harry’s room, sitting side by side on his bed. Harry struggled to calm his heart, his breath, the tears threatening to spill. Draco rubbed slow circles on his back, continuing his soft nonsensical words.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said when he felt he could speak without breaking.

“Me too.”

“I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“I gathered as much.”

Harry wiped his face with a wet laugh. “I only ever dated Ginny, you know. And it was such a short time. Neither of us pushed for much more than a few kisses.” He heaved a broken sigh. “All of this… is new. Not just with a boy. But with anyone. There hasn’t been a lot of…” He grimaced, knowing his words couldn’t be anything but weird, “a lot of nice touching.”

Draco’s hand stilled. “Did someone hurt you?” he asked, his words clipped and deep.

“Not like - no, not like you’re thinking. Just… My cousin and his -” He choked on the word ‘gang,’ for the violence it implied. “His friends weren’t nice to me when we were little. And my aunt and uncle… they were full of ugly words and hateful spite. And you and I - we haven’t had the best history and I think, in the back of my mind, somehow you’re going to hurt me too.” Draco’s hand left Harry’s back, and Harry instantly regretted the loss. “Everyone always does in the end.”

“You’re probably right. I will hurt you. I grew up learning to use words as weapons. And we’ve made a habit of slicing each other to ribbons with such weapons. In the figurative sense,” he added in a lofty tone.

Harry winced and rubbed at the scar on his forehead. “Literal ones as well?” There was no scar on Draco’s face from that day in the boys’ toilet. But Harry had seen the faint one on his chest, presumably where the dittany had stopped working.

“Hurting each other is our specialty. It’ll take time to move beyond it. But Harry,” Draco’s hand landed lightly on Harry’s thigh and squeezed it gently. “If the string has tied us together…” He held up his hand, drawing the string into Harry’s line of sight. “My fate is tied to yours. And you’ve earned my loyalty already. For whatever it’s worth.”

“You hate me,” Harry whispered, his voice rusty and broken.

“But it’s in me to love you as well.” He stood and opened Harry’s door. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”


	4. Plan C: Draco tries really hard

Harry’s eyelids painfully scraped across his dry eyes on Wednesday morning. He stared at the ceiling, dreading the moment he had to stand and dress for the day. Draco and red strings and fate and dating and sex and all of it was just too much.

He was too tired for this shit.

“Fuck breakfast,” he said out loud to no one as he curled into a ball and pulled the covers over his head. “Fuck lessons and lunch while I’m at it,” he mumbled into his cocoon.

He and Draco needed a break from one another. The situation had spiraled out of control and Harry couldn’t handle the stress of it anymore. Draco had a point that they had all their lives to fall in love. No need to rush things now before they were ready. That would only drive the wedge between them even deeper.

Slow and easy. Friends first, lovers to follow.

Yes, the plan for the day was a simple one - avoid Draco at all costs, but nicely so he didn’t know he was being avoided. In fact, Harry could just skive off his lessons and hide in his room all day. He’d done it loads of times, so Ron and Hermione wouldn’t worry. He had snacks to sustain him, and books to read, drums to beat. He would be fine.

But first, the toilet.

And of fucking _course_ Mr Brushes-his-teeth-in-his-room also had to pee at the same time.

Harry barely had the door to the communal bathroom open and already Draco had his wand trained on the door. Harry scrunched up his nose. “Good morning to you too,” he said, echoing Draco’s words from yesterday morning. “I just need to pee.”

Draco tucked his wand in the pocket of his dressing gown and went back to washing his hands. “One can never be too careful.”

Harry paused on the way to the urinal, memories of the boys’ toilet he regularly avoided overwhelmed him. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I said it before. But I am - sorry about that day. I shouldn’t have used an unknown spell on a person.”

“What spell?” Draco asked. He wiped his hands dry on the hanging towel. His expression cleared. “Oh, right. Water under the bridge. If you can believe it, I’ve had worse near-death experiences so…”

The image of blood splattering from Draco’s face and chest made Harry’s stomach turn. What could be worse? “That’s… really fucking horrible,” Harry said, turning back to the task at hand. His bladder couldn’t be put off any longer.

“War often is.” Harry heard Draco moving towards the door, and the whoosh of it swinging open. “I’ll be ready in about twenty minutes if you want to go down to breakfast together.”

“Thanks,” Harry said, “but I’m not going to breakfast today.”

A second later the door whooshed shut again. “Why not?”

Harry sighed. He stared at Draco in the mirror over the sink as he washed his hands. “It’s been a rough couple of days. I just want to keep a low profile today.” 

Draco gave him a sour look. “You don’t have to hide in your room just to avoid me.”

“I’m not avoiding _you_ , I’m avoiding _everyone_.” He turned to Draco, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the sink. “I can’t handle another lecture about advanced magic I’m probably never going to use once no one is testing me on it. Exams can sod off.”

A smile played at the corner of Draco’s mouth. “Indeed. So if it’s lessons you’re avoiding, you wouldn’t mind if I came by later today?”

Of course he did, but he couldn’t outright admit it. And this early in the morning, when his eyelids continued to feel like sandpaper, no excuses came to him. He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sure, I guess.”

“Then maybe I will. Muggle Studies is mandatory for me, but I can skive off the rest. Perhaps we can run through more of your questions. Make some progress together.”

That was the exact opposite of what he wanted for the day. “Sure, whatever. I’ve got snacks.”

“And I have chocolates from Switzerland.” With a saucy wink, Draco left the bathroom.

Harry splashed water on his face, hoping the sound of rushing water drowned out his groan. What a fucking nightmare! He wanted a day of rest, not more anxiety and squabbling over stupid questions. He flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, hoping the day would pass quickly.

Some time later, Harry jolted awake, throwing up a shield charm as he scrambled back towards his headboard. What the fuck? His room. His eyes scanned the small space while his heart beat frantically, thudding in his ears. He was in his room. Alone. What was - a rapid knock sounded again. Oh, the door.

Draco.

“Coming!” Harry called out, then rolled his eyes at himself. With the silencing charms up, Draco wouldn’t be able to hear him. He glanced at his desk, and yes, they were no longer drums. Again. “Fucking desk,” Harry mumbled as he pulled the door open.

“Oh, were you sleeping?” Draco asked, glancing down at Harry’s pyjamas. “I thought you might be playing your drums and didn’t hear my knock.”

It flashed in his mind to say yes and kick Draco out, but a box floated along beside him and Harry admitted to curiosity as to what was inside. So he stood back to let Draco into his room. “I was sort of sleeping but not really. It’s fine.” Absently he pointed at his desk. “It won’t stay drums so mainly I just beat on the desk with the drumsticks.”

Draco directed the box to Harry’s bed and sat next to it. “Why don’t you buy an actual drum set?”

Harry shrugged and cast about for a change in subject. He took stock of Draco’s muggle clothes - a powder blue buttoned shirt and fitted black trousers - and asked, “How was Muggle Studies?”

“Boring as usual. We’re in a unit about muggle medical techniques and I can see how someone might find their practices interesting. But we have magic so… I find it rather boring. Did you know that when muggles break bones, they hold them in place with fabric and plaster until it heals? And it can take _months_ to heal?”

“Seeing as I grew up with muggles, yes, I did know that.” Thankfully Dudley had never broken any of Harry’s bones, but sometimes it felt like a near thing.

“Today we practiced wrapping our arms in about twenty layers of fabric and plaster. It was a huge mess and it made me ever more grateful for magic. To vanish the mess and heal bones quickly in the first place.” He opened his big box and pulled out a smaller, yet elaborately engraved wooden box. “But it gave me an idea for today. For us.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Harry sat up a little straighter against the headboard, his earlier ire fading into curiosity and the beginnings of excitement.

Draco opened the box with a flourish. “A manicure kit,” he said with a ‘ta-da!’ sort of smile.

“Manicures? Isn’t that kind of, erm… you know, boys don’t usually do that kind of thing?” He didn’t know a single boy that would submit to a manicure for fear of being called gay. But he didn’t want to say so to Draco, who owned the kit in the first place and clearly knew how to use it. But Draco was also gay so maybe the thought tracked well enough?

“First of all, good personal hygiene is for _everyone_.” Draco snapped the lid shut and reached into the bigger box for a lightweight cloth. He spread it out on top of the duvet and said, “Second of all, I know you’re thinking that it’s gay but you should be aware that everything you do is gay because you are a gay man. Give me your hand.” He held his own hand out expectantly.

“I don’t want to paint my nails,” Harry whined, scrunching up his nose.

Draco rolled his eyes and made an impatient gesture. “I’m not _painting_ them! Just, cleaning them up. Fixing the broken bits or whatever. Give me your hand.”

“This is stupid,” Harry grumbled, but laid his hand in Draco’s anyway.

“It’s not stupid, it’s necessary.” Draco frowned at Harry’s fingers, examining each nail. “My nails have that plaster dug in so deep a scourgify couldn’t get it all. And…” He shrugged as if his words were of no consequence, “It’s nice touching and you said you needed more of that.”

“Oh.” An unfamiliar warmth spread through Harry, setting off a fluttering in his belly. “Okay,” he said softly, his body relaxing a little. 

Silence swelled between them as Draco opened the smaller box again and found a wide, shallow jar of blue gel. He set it on the bed between them and crowded Harry’s fingertips into it. “Let those soak a minute.”

He squirted something else into his own hands and rubbed them together before concentrating on each of his fingernails. Harry grimaced when Draco pulled out a sharp metal implement, but relaxed when he used it to dig at his own nail beds. 

This was utterly ridiculous. Imagining Ron laughing _at_ him and not _with_ him about this later, Harry sighed, “This definitely feels gay.”

“More than kissing earlier?” Drao smirked. “We’re two boys tied together by fate so _everything_ we do until the end of time is gay. So yes, manicures for us are gay. But so is the toast you eat for breakfast. Pick-up Quidditch game? Gay Quidditch. Those hideous pyjamas? Gay pyjamas. All of it, gay. Because we’re gay. Well I’m bi, but no one cares now that I’ve got you. What about you? Feeling any gay vibes yet? Bi? Still think you’re just straight?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have any kind of vibes anymore.”

“Anymore?” Draco set aside the wicked metal poker, and found a soft flannel in his box. He wiped blue gel from Harry’s fingers with it. “What kind of vibes did you have before?” Out came the squirt bottle, and more oil on Harry’s hand.

Harry shrugged again, staring at Draco massaging each of his fingers. “I liked kissing Ginny.” He hesitated for a moment, but Draco was being nice and his body was relaxing into the touch, and so he could be nice too. “I like kissing you too.”

Draco smiled, and tugged Harry forward for a quick kiss on the lips. “Of course you do, I’m brilliant at it. What about the rest of it?”

“I told you before, Ginny and I didn’t do much. And after last May, I haven’t wanted to do anything with anyone.” Harry chewed his lips, but Draco didn’t tease. He stayed focused on his task, massaging each finger and up Harry’s palm. 

“Soak your other hand,” he said, nudging the jar towards Harry’s other hand. Harry stuck his fingers in the jar, wiggling them around to settle the gel around each fingertip. Draco got out another implement and poked at Harry’s cuticles. “I’ve done lots of things with lots of people. Does that bother you?”

“I don’t know. Not really, I guess.” Harry hadn’t given it much thought, but couldn’t imagine it would matter at this point. What was done, was done. “You’re allowed to have a history. And a different comfort level.” 

“Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“I think it’s just sex in general. It’s a really personal thing and I don’t like personal things.”

Another hum, and Draco exchanged the cuticle thing for a nail file. Finally, something Harry recognised. Draco tsked at Harry’s chipped and broken nails, and went to work smoothing the worn edges.

“Where did you learn to do this?” Harry asked, to fill the silence.

“Mostly from Pansy. She was into all that girly shit and I went along with it because she could suck the polish off a broom. So I can french _and_ dutch plait hair, apply eyeliner, and I know more about menstrual cycles than any boy really needs to.”

Harry didn’t know what to do with the image of Pansy Parkinson, with black eyeliner and her hair neatly french plaited, on her knees for Draco Malfoy. Ask Hermione to obliviate him later? “Thanks for that lovely image,” he grumbled.

Draco winked. “Theo is also not bad, if that makes a prettier picture.”

“It does not, but thanks, I guess.”

Draco snorted and set aside the nail file. “Okay, so now we polish.” Several little bottles tumbled onto the duvet. “But somehow I think you’ll want a clear finish.” Draco sorted through the pile until he came up with two clear bottles. “Shiny or matte finish?”

“I don’t know.”

“Shiny is glossy and matte is dull. Probably matte. It’s least noticeable.” His voice dropped, “Much manlier than shiny.” He rolled his eyes and shook the tiny bottle vigorously. “My father would shit kneazles if he knew I sometimes went for shiny, or Merlin forbid, _red_.”

“You wear red nail polish?”

With careful strokes, he painted each of Harry’s nails. “Are you about to tell me it’s gay? Because even this matte finish is gay on your gay hands.”

Harry laughed at the ongoing joke. “No, I just… I’ve never seen you wear red - or any colour - nail polish before.”

Draco blew a gust of air from his wand at Harry’s hand. “One day colour will just be colour and anyone can wear nail polish. Until then, I keep it to my toes, where no one can see it. Can’t let my father get wind of it. He’s willing to put up with the odd indiscretion, but he was still trying to forget my ‘antics’ from last year when all of this cropped up.”

“He’s sorry I don’t have a uterus to pop out baby after baby?”

“Something like that. Although, if I was going to be tied to a man, at least it was the Golden Boy.” He smiled to take the sting from his words. “What do you think?” He released Harry’s hand and took his other hand from the blue gel to start the whole thing over again.

“It’s nice,” Harry said, admiring the smooth line of his nails. The matte polish didn’t shine, looking like his natural fingernails, yet neat and clean. 

“Anyway, girls love this shit and think it’s utterly charming that I know how to fix their nails. And I’m not going to lie, bright red polish on the nails around my dick is - very enticing.”

Draco’s grin brought a blush to Harry’s cheeks. “Even if it’s a boy’s hand?”

“I’ve never painted a boy’s nails red. We can give that a go sometime when we’re away from eyes that might see and judge. Although I do know a spell to vanish the colour if you want to try it just for us now...”

Harry didn’t know if it was the thought of red polish or his hand wrapped around Draco’s cock again that had him blushing. “Thanks, but I’ll pass this time.”

“Maybe next time.” Draco smiled and pulled out his cuticle torturer. “Or I could paint mine, if you want to see a boy’s red fingernails around _your_ dick?”

Harry snorted. “No, thank you.”

Draco pursed his lips, then bit back a smile. “Another time then.” He let his smile out, and Harry felt his growing in return. “This is fun.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “It kind of is.”

When the matte polish dried on his other hand, Harry held out all ten fingers to admire them. “I’d offer to do yours but I’m not sure I can handle such a tiny brush.”

“No worries, I do my own all the time.” Draco resumed scraping the plaster from his fingernails. “There’s actually a spell to apply the polish, but I like using the brush.”

“That’s very muggle of you.” Harry settled back against the headboard, pulling his knees to his chest and draping his arms across his knees.

“Well, the point of the exercise was nice touching. Can’t very well have that if I’m spelling everything into place.” Briefly his eyes met Harry’s. “Was it nice?”

“Very.”

Draco didn’t apply any polish to his fingers, but he did pull his socks off and show Harry the dark green polish on his toes. “This could be you…” he said, wiggling his toes and smiling.

“I think we’ll have to build to that.”

“You’re a stick in the mud. But fine.” Draco repacked all his nail care items, cleaning them with spells as he went.

“So what next?” Harry asked. The morning had been going much better than he’d have thought possible. And he actually _wanted_ Draco to stay for a while longer.

Draco pulled out four flat, wide boxes. “Part two of our day involves finding common ground.” He opened the top box with another ‘ta-da’ smile. “With chocolates.” He inhaled deeply and set the box aside to open the next one.

“Are all those from Switzerland?”

“No, I’ve got four different kinds.” He pointed to each of the boxes in turn. “This one is Swiss, this one is Belgian, this one is muggle, and this one is from Honeydukes.” 

“You have muggle chocolates?” Harry sat cross legged and leaned forward to get a better view. Each box had a collection of chocolates. Some looked filled, others perhaps were solid chocolate. 

“Yes, we’ve had several shopping expeditions in Muggle Studies, and I bought chocolates on the first one. They’re not bad.” He smacked Harry’s hand when he reached for one. “No! Not yet!”

“There goes all the nice touching,” Harry grumbled playfully, rubbing his hand.

Draco rolled his eyes. “We’re going to do a blind taste test to see which you like best.”

“Why does it have to be blind?”

“So you’re not biased towards common chocolates. You have to let your tongue do your thinking.”

“There’s an innuendo in there, but I’m not sharp enough to catch it.”

“Oh, I think you’ve caught it,” Draco said cheekily, adding a wink for good measure. “We’ll see if we agree the Swiss ones are best. Close your eyes. Or do you want an actual blindfold?”

“I absolutely do _not_ want a blindfold,” Harry said, closing his eyes.

“Noted. Open your mouth.”

“I swear it better be chocolate you put in my mouth.” He obediently opened his mouth, even if he felt exposed and ridiculous.

“See… you _did_ catch the innuendo. But it’s just chocolate this time, I promise. Here’s the first one.”

Harry didn’t want to admit it just tasted like chocolate. Creamy, sugary milk chocolate. Certainly nothing to write home about. He started to chew it up, but Draco barked, “Savour it! Roll it around on your tongue. Really get the flavour and texture of it!”

“This is sounding more lewd by the second,” Harry said around the crumbled bits of chocolate in his mouth. He swallowed a flood of saliva and chocolate.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” A second later Harry heard Draco moan, “Mm… I love chocolate. Good, right? Here’s a glass of water to rinse your mouth.” 

Harry felt soft, warm fingers on his, opening his hand to fit a glass inside. “Do I need to spit this out like in a fancy wine tasting?”

“No,” Draco whispered seductively just as Harry took a swig, “you _swallow_ it.”

Harry nearly spat his water everywhere. “Bloody hell, Malfoy!” he laughed. “That was horrible!”

“You walked right into it. I couldn’t have asked for a better set-up. Now open up for the next one.”

The second one tasted just like the first one. Maybe a little less sweet? What the fuck did Harry know about tasting chocolates? “It’s good, but I think I like the first one better.”

“Mm, me too. But I’m stuck between not wanting to share my stash of sweets and not liking the darker chocolates. So they continue taking up space in my trunk as I eat them only as a last resort.”

“Was that the Belgian one?” Harry asked, remembering the box with the darker chocolates in it.

“Good guess. Take another drink.”

The third tasted just like the first. But the fourth one… “Holy fucking hell,” Harry moaned as the soft milk chocolate warmed and dissolved like butter. Silky smooth chocolate filled his senses, warming him through. “That is by _far_ my favourite. I want another one.” He opened his eyes, surveying the boxes to guess which box it came from.

“Nice try, but no. One is all you get.” Draco set lids on each box, stacking them together. “I get one box for my birthday, and one at Christmas. But I’ll see about getting you one for your birthday too.”

“My birthday is forever away! Get me one now and one later. We can share the whole thing in a single sitting.”

“It’s a _luxury_ item. It wouldn’t be special if we ate it for no reason!” He opened the box at the bottom of the pile. “But here, you can have one more since these are new for you. But you owe me one when you get your box!”

“I’ll give you two because I’m a nice person,” Harry said, taking the chocolate and closing his eyes to savour the way it melted in his mouth. He moaned, “Damn, these are beyond description.” He opened his eyes to find Draco staring at him. “What?”

“You look hot with that blissful look on your face.” He set the chocolates in his big box. “I wish you looked that way when I was sucking you off.” 

“Erm… I’m sorry?” How was he meant to respond to that? Offer to let Draco suck him off right now? That seemed like a dick move. No pun intended, he laughed to himself.

Draco saw the smile and returned it. “Want to give it a try now?” He leaned forward eagerly.

Fuck. “Erm… Maybe later?” Harry kissed Draco lightly, to ease any hurt feelings.

“Fine,” Draco sighed. He returned the chocolates to the big box.

“So what’s next?” Harry asked, trying to catch a peek inside.

Draco brought out a wicker basket. “I brought lunch. It’s a little early, but…” He shrugged. “Are you hungry?”

“Always.” Harry pulled his box of snacks from the wardrobe and dug around until he found two bags of crisps and a new package of caramel Hobnobs. 

Draco set out two butterbeers, then apple slices and sandwiches on a small plate for each of them. “They’re cranberry chutney with cheese. I’m sorry there’s no meat.”

“That’s okay,” Harry said, taking a small bite. “Mm… it’s delicious. So why are you a vegetarian now?” He took two more bites, waiting for Draco to answer.

And at first, it seemed he might not. But then he gave Harry a small smile and said, “Just doing my part to save the animals.”

The lie pierced the glowing bubble of happiness growing around Harry and it started leaching away. He finished his sandwich, then leaned back against his headboard with his bag of crisps. If Draco didn’t want to share about his past, then Harry wasn’t going to make him. But he didn’t know where to carry the conversation after that.

Draco opened the Hobnobs. “Why do you have a whole box of snacks? Aren’t the regular meals here enough?”

“I don’t like being hungry.” He leaned his head back to dump the last crumbs of crisps directly into his mouth. Draco grimaced at him, but Harry didn’t care about his opinion at the moment. He vanished the rubbish and took two Hobnobs, eating them like a single biscuit with caramel and chocolate in the centre. 

It occurred to him that Draco might give him something real, if Harry offered something real first. He pried his biscuit apart so he could look at his hands instead of at Draco. “I used to be hungry a lot.”

“Mother says the secret to staying thin is to end every meal just a tiny bit hungry.”

Harry’s head whipped up, his face locked in a horrified grimace. “That is utterly wretched advice!”

“And yet,” Draco said, waving a hand down his slender body. “It works.”

“What the - Draco, if you’re hungry, you should eat!” Harry summoned his box of snacks and began dumping them on the bed. Pretzels, more crisps, mixed nuts, plain digestives, and chocolates.

“Harry, I’m not hungry _now_. We just ate!” He held up an apple slice. “I’m still eating. Calm down.”

Harry tossed a Lion bar and a Peppermint Toad near Draco’s plate. “In case you change your mind.” Slowly he put the rest of the snacks away. “Food was hard to come by last year. We went hungry too many times to count.” 

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded and banished the box to his wardrobe. Pulling his knees to his chest, he said quietly, “Also… my aunt and uncle… they didn’t see feeding me as a high priority.” Now it was Draco’s turn to look horrified. “I wasn’t _starved_ or anything. But I didn’t always get enough, and sometimes my cousin took my food because he thought it was funny. Because he could.”

“That’s - Harry, that’s horrible.”

There wasn’t anything Harry could say to that so he shrugged and picked at the hem of his sleeve, just to avoid having to look at Draco. He heard the rustling of a wrapper as Draco moved to sit next to him against the headboard. Half a Lion bar appeared in his line of sight. Harry took it, glancing at Draco eating the other half. 

His eyes caught Harry’s for a moment, then he frowned at his half of the Lion bar. “I watched Voldemort’s disgusting, giant snake consume a person, whole and entire, on my dining room table.”

Harry almost choked on his bite of chocolate. Draco handed him a bottle of butterbeer and Harry drank gratefully.

“It took four days for her to digest it enough to leave the table. I haven’t been able to stomach any meat since then.”

Harry opened his mouth to offer words of comfort but Draco squeezed his fingers and said, “Don’t. Don’t say anything.”

So instead, Harry turned his palm up so he could hold Draco’s hand properly, and ate the last bite of his chocolate. His heart swelled at the connection growing between them. _This_ was the tie he wanted to Draco, even if the reason was bonding over their shit lives. And Draco deserved rewarding for opening up. So when Draco finished his piece of chocolate and went to lick his fingers clean, Harry grabbed his hand instead.

Moving slowly, to give Draco the chance to pull his hand away if he wanted, Harry licked Draco’s thumb free of chocolate. Draco’s mouth fell open and his eyes widened, his gaze focused on the pucker of Harry’s lips around his thumb. When Harry switched to his index finger, Draco whimpered and his pupils dilated until only a thin circle of grey remained. 

His mouth descended on Harry’s with a groaning ferocity that sent a zing of desire shooting straight to Harry’s gut. He pushed Harry back against the bed, and Harry went along with it, heedless of the awkward angle. The taste of chocolate melted away until all that remained was the silky sweet taste of Draco alone. But it felt… lacking?

More. Harry wanted more.

“Are you sure?” Draco panted as Harry broke away to unfasten his trousers. 

“Yes.” For once, the timing felt right between them. The kind words, the shared meal, the bond formed through suffering. Harry wanted to strike while the iron was hot, so to speak, and drown himself in the tide rising inside.

Needing no further encouragement, Draco pushed Harry’s pyjamas and pants down his thighs. Neither wanted to pause long enough to take their clothes off, and settled for shoving them out of the way just enough to reach all the delicious, necessary parts. Harry grunted his frustration at his inability to move his legs, but Draco distracted him with another searing kiss and a hard squeeze of his cock. 

“Fuck,” Harry moaned into Draco’s mouth. Everything was happening too fast, but Harry didn’t want to slow down, didn’t want to risk this moment fading away. A giddy excitement started to build around Draco’s clever fingers sliding over Harry’s cock. It focused all of Harry’s desire in one spot. He lost track of what his own hand should be doing, but Draco didn’t seem to care. He squeezed harder, pumped faster, moaning against Harry’s skin.

The connection between them grew, becoming almost tangible. Harry buried his free hand in Draco’s hair, then down his back and used it as leverage to press his hips up into Draco. “I’m almost there… almost, almost, almost,” he chanted mindlessly.

“Yes that’s it,” Draco whispered. He braced a hand next to Harry’s head so he could lean back and watch Harry’s face. “You sexy fuck… come for me…”

As if such a thing could be done on command. But Harry’s heart pulsed at the words, and Draco’s hand moved faster, and… “Fuck, _yes_...” Harry groaned as the pleasure crested and washed over him in a hot wave of adrenaline unlike any he’d experienced before.

Draco tried to sit up, but their tangled clothes made it impossible. Instead he leaned back as far as he could, pumping at his own cock with a hand covered in Harry’s come. He stared owl eyed at the mess on Harry’s prick and belly, and his breath came in short bursts. Then, rocking hard against Harry, he groaned as his own orgasm hit in a hot splatter of come across Harry’s softening cock.

His heavy breathing echoed in Harry’s ear as he collapsed at Harry’s side. “Please tell me that was fun for you.”

Harry summoned his wand and used it to clean Draco’s hand. Then he kissed the back of his fingers. “That was really good.” He cleaned himself up, and pulled his pyjamas back up, still feeling the soft post-orgasm glow.

“Thank fuck.” Moving sluggishly, Draco wriggled his clothes back into place. Harry turned to curl into Draco, but Draco was already getting up from the bed. “We made a mess of things.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess we did,” Harry said, noticing the crumbled remains of a sandwich. He grimaced at the smear of chutney on his pyjama bottoms. “That’ll come out in the wash, yeah?” He pulled them off and threw them in his laundry basket, searching out a clean pair.

“Should be fine. The house elves have magic all their own.” Draco vanished the remains of the food, and repacked the picnic basket. He set the basket in his box, then floated the box to the door. He ran his fingers through his hair, and smiled at Harry. “This was loads of fun.”

The simple words, paired with the packed box, had a note of finality that sucker punched Harry. “You’re leaving?” he asked, doing his best to keep his face and voice neutral, even if the dark threat of loneliness lurked at the edges of his mind.

“Oh, well… yes?” Draco said, looking at the door then back at Harry. “I thought… before we started fighting. End things on a high note for now.”

“Oh, right.” This was a crossroad. Harry could demand Draco stay, possibly sparking a fight that left them both upset. Or he could let Draco leave without a fuss. Harry smiled. “That’s probably a good idea.” The tenuous connection between them snapped and the happy glow evaporated like smoke.

“I have some homework to do. But I can come back. After dinner. Are you going to dinner in the Great Hall?”

“Maybe.” Harry glanced down at his pyjamas and debated whether he wanted to get dressed in real clothes. “Probably not.”

“I can bring you a plate. We can answer questions.”

Once again Harry had the urge to set that fucking book on fire. When would they move past the need for it? Couldn’t they just hang out together and talk like any two people? “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

Draco took a step towards the door. “You’re really okay with me leaving?”

Harry pushed the box out of the way so he could open the door. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll be in the library near the Ancient Runes section, if you want to join me.” He gave Harry a quick kiss. “Bye, Harry.”

Harry closed the door behind Draco, and screamed in frustration. But only because no one could hear it.

\--------

The afternoon dragged on for ages. Every time Harry tried to leave his room, the memory of their morning together mocked him. It had been going so well! Why did Draco leave? They had a nice conversation, shared a meal. Harry spoke up about his personal trauma, and Draco did the same. They opened their hearts to one another… and then nothing. Draco got the orgasm he was after and left Harry as soon as it was over.

He beat on his drums, clanging the cymbals until his ears rang. It numbed his brain so he didn’t have to think about it anymore.

Until Draco showed up for dinner.

He didn’t have a big box this time, just the smaller picnic basket. Harry only had enough time to notice there were two covered plates inside before Draco set it aside and pushed Harry to the bed with a grinning kiss.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, shoving Draco off to the side and getting to his feet.

Draco pushed up on his elbows, frowning at Harry. “I thought… You were into it earlier, so I thought we’d go for round two.”

“Well I don’t want to.” Harry crossed his arms and tried not to glare. 

But he could see he failed when Draco rolled his eyes and flopped back on the bed. “Back to square one, I see. What’s got your wand in a knot this time?”

“Nothing! I was just - here by myself all afternoon. Doing nothing.”

“Mm, and cooking up a bad mood just for me?” He sat up and crossed his arms, looking just as defiant as Harry. “Isn’t that what you wanted? To spend some time alone today?”

“Erm... yes… But you were here and then we -” Harry gestured at the bed, wishing his face didn’t feel so hot. “And then you left.” He said this as evenly as possible, not wanting to sound like a petulant child.

But Draco threw him a look of utter disbelief anyway. “I _asked_ if you wanted me to stay!”

“I don’t want you to stay because I _made_ you, I want you to stay because you _want_ to! I was trying to… make you happy. By letting you leave. It’s what you wanted.” His words came slower and slower, now that he could recognise how silly he sounded. 

Draco seemed to agree, with the way he shot to his feet to yell, “And do you think it makes me happy to be blatched by this argument? If I’d known you were going to stew about it all day, I wouldn’t have left. But how was I to know? I can’t guess what you’re thinking! You have to tell me!”

“I’ve told you that intimacy is difficult for me. I don’t know how to say these things!”

“You have to fucking _try_ , okay? I planned a nice morning for us that didn’t involve sex at all. For _you_. And then it was _you_ that started it! And yes, I left because cuddling isn’t a thing people want from me. And honestly, I didn’t want us to start fighting about it. But look! It happened anyway!” He pulled a covered dish from the picnic basket and lifted the lid. He slammed it down, gagging on the smell of rosemary chicken. “Fuck, this one’s yours.” He set the plate on the bed and picked up the basket. “I don’t need this shit. Enjoy your dinner.”

“Wait.” He tugged at Draco’s sleeve to keep him from leaving. “You… brought me chicken? For dinner?”

“Yes, so?”

“That’s… really thoughtful of you.” Damn, he had been horribly ungrateful this entire day. He hadn’t appreciated the nice morning they’d shared, nor the quiet time Draco had given him. Why did he get himself so worked up over such tiny, stupid things?

“Only because I didn't think you’d eat tofu.” He stared down at the picnic basket in his hand. “The elves prepared the basket for us.”

“I’m sorry.”

Draco looked up at that, his stormy eyes searching Harry’s face for hidden meaning.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said again. “You’re right. About all of it. I didn’t - I was being childish and selfish.”

Draco turned to face him fully, pursing his lips in a haughty glare. “Well, so long as you realise you were wrong… I guess I can stay. But only because I don’t want to eat alone in my room.” Gingerly he sat on the chair by the drums, instead of the bed, and opened his own tray of food.

Harry didn’t like the stiff way Draco poked at his food, or the distance Harry had put between them. Words never felt like enough with an apology. Any idiot could say the words “I’m sorry.” This called for action. Hesitantly he stepped towards Draco, who eyed him warily.

As he should… as if Harry knew what the fuck he should be doing in a situation like this. But the other day when Draco had been upset, a few kisses had calmed him down. Perhaps this would be the same?

Harry knelt next to Draco and slowly set his tray on the floor. He ran a hand up Draco’s thigh and around his waist, resting his head on Draco’s chest. With a sigh, Draco hugged Harry back, knocking his glasses askew. Harry tilted his head back so Draco could kiss along his cheek, to his mouth. They shared a slow, gentle kiss.

“I’m sorry I overreacted,” Harry whispered, sitting on his heels and adjusting his glasses. “I’m sorry I let myself drown in my own thoughts.”

Draco’s fingers carded through Harry’s hair, and he pressed his cheek to Harry’s. “Thank you,” he whispered back.

He kissed Harry again, warming him through, and reassured him he’d done something right towards fixing the hurts he’d caused. This small victory opened his heart to hope they could work out their differences. Perhaps with less yelling and more laughing in the future. 

Maybe Draco needed a laugh right now, to brighten the sweet yet sombre mood. “Is this… gay panic?” Harry asked, remembering the phrase from Hermione’s book. A burst of laughter separated them, and Harry was happy to see the wide grin on Draco’s face.

“Only because _all_ your panic is gay panic.” 

With Draco’s soft smile back in place, Harry returned Draco’s plate and sat on his bed with his own tray. As he removed the lid, he silently vanished the steam as best he could so the smell wouldn’t linger in the room. “Thank you for bringing me chicken. But I would have eaten tofu with you. I’ll eat just about anything.”

Draco shrugged. “Better safe than sorry, I guess. Want to try it?” He held out his fork with a little brown cube on it. “This is lightly fried so it’s crispy.”

Harry ate the bite right off Draco’s fork and chewed slowly. “The texture is weird. But it tastes good.”

“Next time I’ll bring you a portion.”

Draco finished eating before Harry and set his tray back in the basket. “Shall we answer questions? Where’s the conversation book?”

“Hermione would be so happy to hear that book is coming in handy,” Harry said, pointing at his bag sitting by the wardrobe.

“ _Accio_ Granger’s book,” Draco said.

With his eyes on the bag, he missed the novel zooming towards him from the bedside table. It hit Draco on the shoulder when he turned at the loud popping sound from the drums as they jolted back into a desk and threw out a large text Hermione had leant to Harry for Charms. Draco knocked the Charms text aside as the conversation starter book wriggled out of Harry’s bag to land in his lap. Unfortunately the sex guide shot out of Harry’s bedside table and did the same.

“What is _this_?” Draco asked with glee.

Harry’s face flamed with embarrassment. “Oh fuck… that’s also a gift from Hermione. Since all of this is, you know, new to me.” He tried grabbing it back to put away, but Draco jumped out of his reach. Harry set his tray in the basket, resigned to talking about gay sex.

“Holy shit! You’ve had this the whole time and we’ve been working on those questions instead? Unbelievable!” His mouth dropped open when he got to the pictures in the middle. “Wow, is this _ever_ so informative! Did you see this?” He sat next to Harry and flipped through the face-to-face photos. “Supine,” he snorted. “I guess ‘missionary’ is a little old fashioned.”

“I’ve seen them,” Harry mumbled, eyes drawn to the images anyway. What kind of instructions did the two men receive for these pictures? The top tried to keep a serious, no-nonsense face on, while the bottom looked too blissed out to care he was being photographed.

“Supine, seated cowboy, cowboy. Oh look, facing the same direction too. Prone, doggy, seated reverse cowboy, and reverse cowboy. Do you think they’re really fucking?”

“I - have no idea. That one seems to be enjoying it.”

“Mm, probably faking it. Bottoming isn’t great.”

“Is that a guess or experience?” Harry looked down at the book again when Draco’s face reddened.

“I’ve only had sex with one bloke, and yes, I bottomed. He wasn’t great at it.” He turned the page, skimming the descriptions of variations on the basic positions.

“Oh,” Harry said softly. “I’m sorry. When we’re at that point, I can bottom. I don’t care.”

Draco’s face scrunched up. “We’ll never be at that point,” he scoffed. “I just said it sucked. I wouldn’t want to experience it again and I certainly don’t want to inflict it on my partner.”

“Maybe it gets better with practice and -”

“It doesn’t,” Draco said shortly, turning another page.

Well clearly some shit went down there, Harry thought to himself. He let the matter drop, not wanting to put more stress on Draco when their connection still felt so tenuous. He tapped the book instead. “There’s a section on toys, and how to charm everyday objects, if that’s of more interest.”

“Now that’s more like it!” 

Draco’s smile became more natural as they flipped through the spells. The diagrams looked just like a regular Charms text. Except they didn’t learn to change spoons into dildos in Charms class.

“I swear, they don’t teach us _anything_ useful in school,” Draco said, making Harry laugh.

“Did you want to learn to charm an ink pot into a cock ring with Flitwick? Brew some water resistant lube with Snape? Or worse, Slughorn?”

“I’m just saying a little sex ed would do us all some good.”

“No thanks. I shudder to think what McGonagall would have come up with for us. Wouldn’t you rather read on your own from someone that wants sex to be safe _and_ fun, instead of doom and gloom about pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases?”

“I suppose,” Draco said with a shrug. “Snape would have given us all nightmares for sure. Probably has - _had_ a lecture at the ready about all the worst diseases.”

At the past tense slip, Harry reached for Draco’s hand, but he stood to set the book on Harry’s desk. “I’m sorry about your drums. Want me to change it back?”

“No, it’s fine. I told you the desk doesn’t stay drums. I’m not good at it anyway. I need to find a new hobby.”

“Mm.” Draco moved to the bed, up against the headboard. “Want to answer questions?”

“Not this time,” Harry said.

After a few moments of silence Draco asked, “You’ll be in class tomorrow?’

“Yeah, Hermione won’t let me skip too many. Thanks for keeping me company today.” He kissed Draco’s cheek, then his lips when Draco turned his head.

“Want to snog a bit before I go?” Draco asked.

“Will you stay a while after?”

Draco pursed his lips in thought. “People don’t usually want to snuggle with me.”

“I do. And it’s only my opinion that matters anymore on that topic.”

“Five minutes. We’ll set a timer. Five minutes on mine for snogging - hands above the waist, I promise. You set yours for ten - five to match mine, plus the extra five for cuddles without kisses. What do you think?”

“That’s very Hermione of you.”

“Please don’t talk about her when we’re about to snog.” He flicked his wand, and it dinged to indicate the timer had begun.

Harry did the same and laid down with Draco, their wands falling somewhere nearby. It felt odd to be kissing with a timer running, but Draco didn’t seem to feel the same. He nibbled and licked at Harry’s lips, while his hands stayed above the waist as promised. Harry loved the feel of them in his hair, the scrape of Draco’s nails against his scalp. It made him lose track of time entirely until a buzzing against his hip reminded him.

Draco silenced his wand. “Your turn,” he said softly as he rested his head on Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry kissed the top of Draco’s head and curled his body into Draco’s. He took a deep breath and felt his body relaxing into the embrace. Not enough people had held him in his lifetime, and he wanted to revel in the sensation. He would be hugging Draco for the rest of time. Hopefully, Draco would get used to the idea. For now, he lay a little too tense in Harry’s arms.

When Harry’s wand buzzed at them, Draco huffed a sigh and pulled away. “There. That was good, right? Something for you, something for me.”

“Indeed,” Harry laughed. “With practice we can get up to twenty minutes, an hour. All _night_.”

“Woah… hold your hippogriffs! One step at a time, you wild thing!” Draco smiled at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and I’m borrowing this.” He shrunk the book on gay sex and stuck it in his pocket. “For research,” he winked. “Goodnight Harry.”

“Goodnight Draco.”


	5. Plan D: Harry tries really hard

The next morning, Harry woke later than usual. Which was to say, at a regular time for the other students. Boys jostled for space at the urinals and sinks, and yelled at those showering to stop wanking and get out so others could get in.

He dressed in a hurry, then went to Draco’s room to see if he was ready for breakfast. As he went to knock, he hesitated at a buzzing coming from the door. Slowly, he waved his hand over the wood, and yes - it was buzzing at him. Wards on the door? To prevent anyone from knocking. Or coming in at all.

What an odd thing. Although there were standard locks on the doors, no one went to such lengths to keep the others out. Harry debated waiting for Draco, or sending him a patronus, but figured the wards meant he wanted to be alone.

So instead, Harry found Ron and they went to breakfast together. Draco never showed up, giving Harry further pause. Was Draco all right? Would he want breakfast later? But now they needed to be in Defence, and time had run out to check on him again. Harry conjured a small cardboard box for a few breakfast pastries, then followed Ron and Hermione to Defence.

Seeing Draco there, he smiled. But it quickly faded when he saw how tired and worn Draco looked. His neatly styled hair and crisp robes only seemed to accentuate the purpling under his eyes and the slump of his shoulders. Harry sat next to him and offered the box of pastries. “Didn’t sleep well?” Harry whispered. 

Draco gave it a glance, then offered a half-smile. “Not really.”

Professor Morris started the lesson, and Draco’s attention turned to his parchment and quill. Harry pretended to listen, but his thoughts were all on Draco. Last night he’d left in a good mood. Except for the brief mention of the other bloke he slept with. Had that sparked bad memories? If generic bad memories brought Draco down, Harry would use sex to perk him back up again. It seemed to be the go-to fix for Draco. But would that work for memories of bad sex?

The beginnings of a plan unfurled in Harry’s mind. After class, he followed Draco out, pocketing the pastries when Draco made no move to do so.

“Are you going to follow me all the way to Arithmancy?” Draco asked. “Don’t you have somewhere to go?”

“Just keeping my boyfriend company,” Harry smiled. He laughed when Draco rolled his eyes. “Thought I could snag a kiss, since I didn’t get one before breakfast.”

He got one raised eyebrow for that, but Draco also looked around for others that might be watching. He pulled Harry behind a suit of armour and cast a light notice-me-not charm. “A kiss you say?” 

“Mm, yes,” Harry whispered before lightly brushing Draco’s lips with his own. “Perhaps _two_ kisses.” 

Draco obliged with a deeper kiss. His hand splayed across Harry’s back, pulling him flush against Draco’s body. When they came up for air, Harry noticed the colour in Draco’s cheeks, the shiny bright silver of his eyes, and the eager smile.

Good, it worked.

“Although I hear,” Harry continued, “that _seven_ is the magic number.”

“Oh it definitely is,” Draco said, ducking his head for another kiss.

Harry moaned into the kiss, trying to stay focused through the haze building in his mind. He pulled away with a smile. “Looks like three is all we have time for right now.”

“But we - but -”

“I guess you’ll have to wait on the other four. Have fun with your other numbers.” Harry gave Draco a wink and backed away.

For a second, it looked like Draco might follow, but he straightened his robes and smoothed his hair and nodded. “You owe me four kisses.” Harry’s smile widened when Draco gave him a predatory scan, then turned on his heel towards Arithmancy. 

Success! Harry had pulled Draco from his black mood, and gave him something to look forward to. Glowing with excitement, Harry went down to the Quidditch pitch for a fly before lunch. Usually a few circles of the pitch burned off his excess energy, but this time Harry overflowed with energy of a different sort. A new power and confidence bloomed in him, borne of an awareness of his own body he hadn’t recognised before. 

Draco _wanted_ him. And Harry had to admit he liked having that focused attention, and the power that came from driving Draco to distraction with sex. Even if Harry still felt hesitant about their relationship as a whole, he liked learning how to take care of the person the universe gave him to cherish.

In the Great Hall, Draco’s eyes followed him with that same eager anticipation, as Harry walked to Draco’s end of the table. Even though all the seats around him were empty, Harry sat right next to Draco with a peck on the cheek. “That’s four,” he whispered.

“What?!” Draco exclaimed with a look of disgust. A few other eighth years glanced in their direction but soon lost interest. “That doesn’t even count,” Draco hissed. “You still owe me four. Eat quickly and we’ll have time for a real one before Transfiguration.”

Harry chewed his ham sandwich as slowly as he could manage, trying not to choke in laughter when Draco swallowed a dainty cucumber sandwich in one bite. He elbowed Harry. “Fuck etiquette. Needs must. Hurry it up.”

He could only manage to eat slowly for so long. He needed another stalling tactic. “I brought the book, in case you wanted to answer questions during lunch,” Harry said as he pulled the book from his bag. He had almost vanished it at one point, but now he was thankful he’d kept it, if only to see Draco’s eyes bulge comically.

“Are you serious? Now?”

Harry shrugged. “You like it, don’t you?” For all Draco’s protests about it, he seemed to give each question careful consideration. And he’d suggested reading from it more than Harry had.

Draco’s face flitted through several emotions before he sighed, “Yes, actually, I do.” He hesitated for a moment then yanked it from Harry’s hands. “Even when it leads to another stupid fight. Most of the memories it brings to light are… from a happier time.”

“That’s nice for you,” Harry said carefully. He felt the exact opposite. Every time the book reminded him of his childhood, he thought of another creative end for the fragile material. Paper could so easily be disposed of. Water and fire, obviously. But also confetti and origami. And with charms and transfiguration, the possibilities expanded further. In fact, his other helpful book had spells for turning paper twists into lightweight restraints for gentle play at bondage. He’d consider that another time.

“We should mark the ones we’ve already done,” Draco said, scanning the page in front of him.

“We read them aloud. We know which ones we’ve already done.”

“Maybe we should start at the beginning and work through systematically.”

“That’s very Hermione of you,” Harry said, laughing when Draco gave him a sour look. “And no thank you. I don’t want to answer everything in that book. Sounds tedious.”

“Perhaps.” He turned the page, and tapped the book. “What’s your fondest memory of a tree?” He passed the book to Harry. “When I was six, Pansy’s father had a treehouse built for her. Not to be outdone, I demanded a treehouse of my own. A better one. So Father arranged for a massive structure in _two_ trees, linked by a bridge. I spent all summer out there. Hardly saw my parents at all.” He tilted his head and frowned. “Hmm… could be he built it for Mother, just to get me out of her hair.” He shrugged. “What about you?”

Harry laughed bitterly and shook his head. “See, this is what I hate about this book. All it seems to do is point out how different we are. How is this helping?” He rolled his eyes. “I grew up in a developed area. We only had ornamental trees unsuitable for climbing.”

“You never climbed trees or made leaf piles to jump in? Didn’t sit under the canopy shade with a book or a picnic?”

Harry’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Is there anything I’ve said about my childhood that makes you believe I did any of those things? Once when I was ten, my cousin’s aunt’s dog chased me up the spindly tree in our back garden. Fucking dog barked at me until nearly midnight when Aunt Marge called it off.”

“Midnight? Didn’t a neighbour complain about the noise?”

“And risk Aunt Petunia’s ire? Doubtful.” Before Draco could question it further, Harry read the first question he saw, “What calms you down the most? Flying, I guess. I like the freedom and the whistle of wind in my ear. It drowns everything else out. You?” He handed the book back to Draco.

Draco looked like he might object, but then accepted Harry’s abrupt subject change. “Sex, definitely. All of it, any of it. Mouth, hands, whatever. Physical contact with people - boy or girl doesn’t matter.”

“I’d already guessed that one,” Harry chuckled. Would this be a good time to ask about Draco’s past? Did he want to talk about it in the Great Hall? Harry muffled their end of the table, thankful for the empty space around them. “How many people have you had sex with?”

“Four. The one bloke, and three girls, one of which was a muggle. Turns out, except for the birth control situation, they fuck just the same.”

“Hm, imagine that,” Harry deadpanned. 

“The rest of it is just rumour. Mostly. I snog a lot of people. And I’ve got off with a lot of people. But only had sex with those four.” 

“Okay.” Harry tapped the book. “Your question next.”

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but instead sighed and stared at the book in his hands. A sad, contemplative look came over him. For no reason, Harry took hold of Draco’s hand. In a soft voice, Draco read, “What untrue thing did you believe for a really long time?” His fingers squeezed Harry’s. “I believed the lies my father taught me. And now I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering if it could have all gone differently if I’d learned something else.”

Today was about cheering Draco, not dwelling on his past mistakes. A distraction was in order. “My aunt and uncle told me my parents died in a car crash.”

“What? Are you serious?” Draco sputtered indignantly. “How’d they get away with that lie? I mean, my father spouted all kinds of shit, but his friends did the same so I never heard any different. But surely someone else told you -”

“I didn’t meet any magical people until Hagrid delivered my letter for school. He took me to Diagon, and I met you.”

Draco blinked at him for several seconds. “Yes. You did. And that went swimmingly, if I remember correctly.”

“You do not,” Harry said plainly, but with a smile. It was hard to remember much beyond how small, pale, and snobby young Draco had been.

Older Draco put on the same sneer and waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Ah, well, time dulls all memories.” He gave the book to Harry saying, “That’s three. Probably best to end it here. Are you ready to go?”

Harry returned it to his bag and stood. “Actually, I have to run to the library really quickly.” He kissed the top of Draco’s head. “That’s five. I’ll see you in class.” He took the rest of his sandwich along with him.

“Potter,” Draco growled, grabbing for Harry’s arm but missing, “you absolute prick! That doesn’t count either. You still owe me four!” He had to shout the last as Harry circled the far end of the table towards the Great Hall doors. Heads turned in their direction, but there was nothing to see except Harry’s smile and the two fingers he flipped at Draco with a wink.

Damn, this game was fun! Harry, of course, didn’t have to go to the library at all. He covered himself in his Invisibility Cloak and hid near the Transfiguration classroom. Needling Draco had always given him a certain amount of satisfaction, but with this new bond between them, it had a different edge to it that made him hyper aware of _living_ instead of just _existing_. 

For the first time, he felt a tentative joy at the Red Strings potion that had paired them together. The ongoing process of learning to care for someone, and have someone to care for him in return, filled him with purpose. Each new thing they tried tied them closer together. Soon, it seemed, they would get it right. Even if yesterday hadn’t been perfect, Draco had worked hard to lift Harry’s spirits. And today Harry wanted to return those efforts.  
When Draco came down the hall, Harry removed his Cloak and stepped out of his alcove. “Surprise!” he called softly.

Draco’s grim face burst into a gleeful smile as he pushed Harry back into the alcove. “Fucking liar! You said you’d be in the library.” He cast something in the hallway behind him, but Harry didn’t hear what.

“That’s the surprise. And here’s six.” 

He barely had the words out before Draco descended. How much time did they have before class started? Actually, he didn’t care about class when he had Draco’s arms around his waist and a hot mouth covering his. Would Draco always be so hungry for him? Harry loved the possessive grasp of his hair and the way Draco’s moans reverberated through them both.

A yelp from down the corridor made them spring apart. “Tripping jinx,” Draco said, his eyes still on Harry’s mouth. “They’re coming.”

Harry nodded. “We should get to class.” He rubbed his cheek on Draco’s. “One more kiss…”

“It’s three, Potter. _Three_!” He stomped his foot in childish frustration when Harry winked at him.

This lesson didn’t keep his attention any better than Defence did. It was their last lesson of the day, and both Harry and Draco anticipated a fun afternoon in Harry’s room as soon as it ended. Draco kept glancing in Harry’s direction, and each time Harry would attempt a subtle seduction from afar with a wink or smile. He tried biting his lip seductively, but that felt ridiculous. Running his finger across his lower lip seemed to hold Draco’s attention. 

Dismissal came at long last, and Harry and Draco were among the first out the door.

“Hey Harry!” Ron called before they could get very far. “Some of the boys were talking about flying this afternoon. Want to come?”

“I would…” Harry began, then rolled his eyes when Draco thumped him on the back. “But actually I have plans with Draco. We’re working on... ” Damn, what classes was Harry even taking? Did he have an essay due somewhere? “... homework. We have homework to do.”

“Homework? Really?” Ron asked, scrunching up his nose.

Harry blinked slowly. “Yes. We’re… revising.”

Draco elbowed him. “We’re working on the book Granger gave us.” Harry snorted and Draco elbowed him again.

“All right. Well, we’ll probably be on the pitch until dinner if you change your mind.”

Harry waved as Draco dragged him down the hall. Soon, they were running and laughing, turning the corner to the eighth year dorms. As one they slowed to a walk, and Draco took Harry’s hand. Harry beamed at him and squeezed his hand.

As soon as they dropped their bags by Harry’s wardrobe, Harry pressed Draco to the wall. He nuzzled his cheek and jaw, dragging his lips along soft, delicate skin. “Seven,” he whispered before claiming his last kiss.

Hours of pent-up desire poured out of Draco into Harry with a heavy moan. He buried one hand in Harry’s curls, while the other slid down his back to squeeze his arse. “Please tell me we’re getting off.”

Harry stepped back and waved his wand. An overzealous spell had not only Draco’s school robes unbuttoned, but his waistcoat and shirt as well. Harry loosened Draco’s tie and admired the flush of his cheeks, along with his dishevelled hair and clothes for a moment. But only a moment, because Draco had lost patience with slow movements. He shook off his unbuttoned clothes and added his vest to the pile. Naked from the waist up, he reached for Harry to get his clothes off as well.

Kissing Draco, skin to skin, didn’t feel as odd as it did before. Harry appreciated the warmth, and the smooth skin beneath his fingertips. When Draco reached for Harry’s flies, he pinned Draco’s hands to the wall. He rocked his hips against Draco and kissed along his neck. “Not me, you. Let me… please?”

Draco whined, but nodded his head. 

With a smile, Harry helped Draco out of his trousers and pants, and laid him out on the bed. Harry took off his jeans, but left his pants on, then sat at Draco’s hip. Lightly he ran a hand down Draco’s bare chest to his hip and thigh. He avoided Draco’s cock, which stood hard and flushed a deep red. Harry’d never given anyone a blow job before but Draco had done it for him so he at least knew how things should go. And now seemed as good a time to learn as any. As close as Draco looked to coming, he wouldn’t even care if Harry was pants at it.

But as Harry leaned down with his mouth open, Draco shoved his face away. “What are you doing? Harry Potter doesn’t suck cock.”

For just a second, Harry completely froze. What the ever-loving- _fuck_ did that mean? Unfortunately, now wasn’t the time to ask. He could see Draco shutting down, ruining all of Harry’s efforts to cheer him after a rough night.

Instead, he laid down next to Draco, taking his cock in hand. “Are you sure?” he whispered, adding a lick along Draco’s neck. He moaned softly so Harry did it again. “I’ve heard he’s hella-gay.”

Draco laughed at that, then groaned when Harry gave his cock a squeeze. Slowly he stroked the length, continuing to whisper in Draco’s ear. “I hear he’s after some pretty blond boy… What do you think of that?”

“Harry,” Draco moaned, curling into him.

“I bet all his dreams are about sucking cock. Swallowing it down until his nose is buried in a nest of soft, golden curls.” He tightened his grip, keeping his movements long and slow. “Do you think he swallows? Aren’t you curious? Wouldn’t you like to fuck his pretty mouth and come down his tight throat? Taste yourself on his tongue?”

“Harry,” Draco sighed again, more desperately this time. 

“You do. You know you do. Everyone does. But you’re the only one. You’re the only one that gets to touch and taste. You’re the one he dreams of. You’re the one all his fantasies are made of.”

“Fuck. _Fuck_ , Harry…”

“That’s it, love. I’ve got you.” In his arms, Draco trembled and moaned. Harry hugged him tight and pumped harder, faster. “I’ve got you, Draco. It’s okay.”

Draco tugged hard at Harry’s hair, dragging him in for a kiss as his hips ground against Harry erratically. “Yes, love, come on. I’ve got you,” Harry whispered between kisses. Draco gave a long, low groan as his body tensed, coming in a hot splash across Harry’s belly. He rocked more slowly, and then, still panting heavily, his trembling body collapsed against Harry.

“That’s it, love. So good. You’re so beautiful.” Harry ran his free hand in slow circles across Draco’s back. He paused to find his wand and clean them both up, then gathered Draco more comfortably in his arms. He rained kisses along his temple and cheeks while stroking the parts of his trembling body that he could reach. “So good, Draco. It’s okay. We’re okay.” Another flick of his wand pulled the duvet out from underneath them to cover them instead, cradling them in its warmth. 

“Don’t,” Draco mumbled, trying to push the cover off. “I can’t stay.”

“What do you mean you can’t stay?” Harry asked. Draco looked ready to fall asleep at any moment. His body hadn’t even stopped shaking yet. How was he going to get dressed and down the hall to his room? “You owe me. Something for you, something for me. You’re supposed to cuddle me for ten minutes.”

“Five.”

“ _Ten_.” Harry set the timer on his wand and tucked it under his pillow. “Timer’s set. Stay with me.”

Draco hummed quietly, and rested his head on Harry’s chest. As Harry continued rubbing his back, Draco’s tremors eased until his body relaxed into a light sleep. Good, Harry thought. Draco probably needed the sleep. Harry could hold him and keep him safe while he took a nap.

When the wand buzzed, Draco groaned. His sleepy, questing hand reached under the pillow for the wand. He hissed, “Shh!” at it and threw it across the room, then tucked his face into the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry smiled and silently summoned his wand so he could stop the buzzing. He dropped it to the bed behind him, then wrapped himself more firmly around Draco. 

He marvelled at the gorgeous man in his arms. Sleeping Draco had a face so trusting and open, it tugged at Harry’s heartstrings. Hope opened its cage doors and tentatively held this new relationship in its hands. Draco had taken good care of Harry yesterday. And today, Harry had managed to do the same for Draco. He smiled and let hope weave its red strings around his heart. They _could_ leave their animosities behind and move forward together.

Patience, understanding, care and attention. All these things could come if they worked together and tried trust and hope instead of fear and anger.

Harry smiled and carded his fingers through Draco’s hair, then over his cheek. With a loud shriek, Draco’s eyes flew open. “No! _No!_ ,” he screeched and threw out a shield charm so thick and heavy that it knocked Harry off the bed. 

Suddenly cold and bewildered, Harry sat up, staring at Draco scrambling back against the headboard casting panicked stares around the room, trying to orientate himself.

“Draco,” Harry said softly. He could hardly see Draco through the nearly opaque shield, although his face swivelled toward the sound of his name. “Draco, you’re okay here. It’s Harry. We’re at Hogwarts. At school. This is my room. You’re okay here. Remember we came here after class? Seven kisses. I gave you seven kisses today.”

“S-s-seven kisses…” Draco echoed, his breath breaking on the words. The shield thinned. “My clothes.”

“They’re here.” Harry reached behind him for Draco’s pants and trousers. He threw them on the bed and looked for the vest or shirt. “It’s all here. You’re okay.”

“I don’t want to sleep here with you.” Draco dropped the shield and began getting dressed.

“Okay,” Harry said. “That’s okay. I didn’t know. You were so tired… I just thought you’d like a nap. I - I thought I could keep you safe while you slept.”

Draco paused in pulling up his trousers. “I’m going back to my room.” He pulled on his shirt, not bothering with the buttons. 

As he reached for the door knob, Harry called out softly, “Draco...” For a second, Draco paused. Harry wanted to reach for him but didn’t think Draco would react well to it. “If you need me, I’m here.”

He gave a curt nod, and slammed the door shut behind him. Harry sat on his bed, clouded by an overwhelming sadness.

He hadn’t succeeded after all.

Several times that afternoon, he stood outside Draco’s door, and always felt the buzz of extra wards. Would he come out for dinner? Was he all right? Harry contemplated dismantling the wards to check on him, but knew that would not work in his favour. If Draco needed time alone, Harry had to let him alone. 

But still he worried. He conjured a patronus, and felt his joy rise when the stag circled him. He almost sent it to Draco in the hopes it would cheer him too, but the large animal looked more intimidating than it did comforting so Harry let it dissolve.

He went to dinner alone, but stopped by the kitchen after to ask the elves if anyone had been sent to Draco with food. They shook their heads and tugged their ears in worry. One elf offered to deliver him a tray. Harry wrote Draco a note and tucked it into the elf’s pocket while another elf prepared a light supper.

“If he doesn’t eat it, will someone let me know?”

“Of course, Mr Potter! Of course!” several tiny voices said at once.

What a complete and utter fuck-up of a situation. Harry wanted to rage and beat things, but also wanted to curl up in his bed and whine to himself about everything going wrong. And he wanted Draco sleeping peacefully in his arms again.

He paused outside Draco’s door, but couldn’t hear anything other than the buzz of the wards. Hopefully he was awake and eating something. After skipping breakfast, and a light lunch, surely he needed a good dinner. The elves didn’t seek him out, which must mean Draco ate something. 

Harry’s worry lasted all through the night as he slept fitfully and checked Draco’s door every few hours. He found that if he angled the common room sofa away from the fire just so, he could keep an eye on Draco’s door. Anthony found him in the early hours and gave him a questioning look while pointing at the sofa.

“I’m keeping an eye on Draco’s door. He didn’t have a good day yesterday.”

“Really? He was out and about, wasn’t he?”

“I meant later.” Harry bit his lip. “I thought he needed a nap, and he did not agree.”

Anthony, who was no fool, narrowed his eyes, but let the comment slide. “It’s been a wild week for you two.” He sat on the other end of the sofa, drawing Harry’s eye away from the door at last.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re telling me! We keep trying different things, trying to find a way to work but… I don’t know. I think we’re almost there? This is hard.”

“You don’t have to have all the answers today, Harry. You have a lifetime together. Some couples take months and years to find a good balance.”

“I don’t think either of us knows how to move slowly. Plus, we see each other all the time, all day, every day. We can’t get very far apart for very long here at school.”

“True.” Anthony fell silent at that, staring into the fire.

After several moments of silence, Harry said, “I had a hard time. A few days ago. A bad day. And Draco - he helped me. Even if I didn’t understand it, or appreciate it at the time… he was looking out for me. I wanted to do the same for him.” He sighed. “It didn’t work like I hoped.”

“What happened? Unless it’s none of my business…”

“Yeah, I could use some advice? But Ron’s not - you know. And Hermione is Hermione… “ Harry bit his lip. “It’s sort of intimate?”

Anthony shrugged. “That’s all right. I won’t tell anyone.” He mimed zipping his lips. “Future mind healer and patient confidentiality.”

Harry laughed and rolled his eyes. “You know we’ve all got bad memories and nightmares from last year, yeah? Well, I set off a bad one for Draco. Accidentally, of course. And I don’t know what to do. We were fooling around in my room and we - he -” Harry gestured vaguely with a blush and hurried on. “And he fell asleep after in my room, and I thought it was nice. But he woke up in a panic and left in a strop. I haven’t seen him since.”

Anthony nodded, his brows drawn down in thought, but he didn’t say anything. Harry’s mind started to race, and he filled the silence. “We keep clashing like that when it comes to - to intimacy? I want this, but not that. He wants that, but not this. I don’t know how to make it work.”

“Hmm, yes.” Anthony sat up straighter. “You know Harry, one of the reasons we became friends is that I thought you were like me.”

“Like you?”

“Yes. I’ve always had a hard time with affection and intimacy. Even something simple like a hug goodbye from a friend. I’ve never wanted a girlfriend, or a boyfriend. I’m not interested in kissing or anything that usually follows.”

Harry wondered what Anthony’s girlfriend Megan thought about that, but didn’t feel this was the time to ask. 

“I thought you were the same. But after observing you up close for a while,” Anthony paused to smile kindly, “I think I had you all wrong. I don’t want those affections at all, while you seem to crave those affections while at the same time not trust them.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Harry said, a prickle of annoyance spiking in him. “Don’t I sound like an ungrateful arsehole.”

“Of course you’re not,” Anthony said, laughing at Harry’s frown. “It’s just… you’re hesitant to offer all of yourself. To anyone. You’re a very private person for a public figure. And I don’t know all the details, and again, if it’s none of my business, that’s fine. I’m not _actually_ a mind healer yet. But I would guess that you are testing Draco with small affections first. Physical ones like kissing and cuddling. Napping together, because to you it is an innocent affection?”

Harry nodded. 

“And emotional intimacy too,” Anthony continued, “like sharing the trauma from last year, which most people are already aware of. And if that works, if you find him worthy of your trust, you’ll open yourself up for bigger affections. Not just sex, but also the deeper emotional scars you carry that no one knows about. You need small affections before big affections.”

“Okay,” Harry said slowly. “That’s… yeah, that sounds… right? But, isn’t that the usual way of things? Trust someone with small things, and bigger things follow?”

“Perhaps. But some people carry their priorities differently. For Draco, perhaps the things you see as big are really small for him. And vice versa. Maybe he’s comfortable with sex, but sleeping together - the actual sleeping kind - makes him feel too vulnerable, and it’s too big of an intimacy to share with someone new.”

“But I’m his and he is mine. We’re fated to be together.” Harry closed his eyes and remembered the red string leading from his finger to Draco’s. “He is mine to take care of. Why can’t he let me chase his nightmares away?”

“Why can’t you open yourself up to the intimacies he wants? We each move at our own pace. You can’t rush him, or blame him for being cautious. As you said, we all carry trauma from last year. His guides him as much as yours guides you. You can’t rush trust.”

“Draco mentioned once the years of animosity between us.”

“That is definitely true.”

“Yeah… but it’s fading fast. For me, at least.” Harry hugged himself, and wished he had a blanket to hide in. “It doesn’t take much to win me over.”

“Craving those small affections,” Anthony said, nodding with a significant look.

“For someone saved by love, I don’t know much about it.” Harry pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. “I haven’t had very much of it,” he added, thinking once again of the Dursleys and the childhood he lost.

“Draco will get there when he’s ready. You just have to be patient.”

“I’m not very good at being patient.”

“Then brace yourself for another fight.” Anthony nodded decisively, then headed to the bathroom, leaving Harry to his muddled thoughts.


	6. Plan E: Open hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a fun video of bucket drumming - 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FqJdzYY_Fas
> 
> Cleo tells me they don’t have buckets this size in the UK so I’m taking some artistic license here.
> 
> Edit - ao3 user midlifecrisis says the buckets are used for chemicals! So yay, it works! :)

Harry returned to his room to get dressed when other students started appearing in the common room. He found himself outside Draco’s room yet again, debating his next move. Try and dismantle the wards? Send a patronus? Wait it out? Go to breakfast and try again after?

His looping thoughts broke off when the buzzing stopped. The door opened and Draco looked up in surprise to find Harry waiting with a hesitant smile.

“Oh,” Draco huffed. “Good morning.”

“I was coming to check on you,” Harry said. He swallowed heavily. “Again. I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine, as you can see.” He gestured down his body, and Harry smiled at the casual muggle clothing. Blue jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt were incongruous with his usual style of dress.

“Are you going to breakfast? It’s late but food should still be up.”

“No, actually. I’m meant to be in Muggle Studies in five minutes. It’s field trip day.” Draco closed the door behind him and didn’t object when Harry followed him down the hall.

“Where are you going?”

“We’re volunteering at a veterinary clinic to observe medical practices on animals, since we can’t observe medical practices on humans. We were told to dress for work. I imagine that means shovelling dog shit so I’m wearing clothes I wouldn’t mind burning afterwards.”

“I like you in jeans.”

Draco didn’t respond in words, but he glanced at Harry with a small smile. After a moment of silence he said, “I guess I should apologise for yesterday.”

Harry shrugged. “You don’t have to. Not for having a nightmare or a panic attack. We can’t control those things so how can I blame you?”

“Still… it feels -”

“I wouldn’t mind an apology about calling me Harry Potter, though.”

Draco’s face screwed up in confusion. “That’s your name?”

“Yeah, but I don’t like being referred to in third person. As if ‘Harry Potter’ is another entity.” Harry glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t see anyone near enough to hear them talking. “You said ‘Harry Potter doesn’t…’ you know… as if you weren’t actually talking to Harry Potter at that moment.”

“Oh,” Draco said, his voice small and contemplative. “You’re right. Yes, I’m sorry. For making you a name instead of a person.”

“Thank you.” Harry tugged Draco’s sleeve to stop him walking, and held his gaze for a long moment. “I know this isn’t a good time, but we’re going to have to talk about it again. Soon. Because I don’t know what to think if you don’t ever want to have sex and you think I’m somehow above giving blow jobs.”

Draco crossed his arms and pursed his lips, staring down his nose at Harry. “You’re right, this isn’t a good time.”

“Right, but I’m telling you now that I’m going to bring it up later so that you can be thinking about it.” Harry started walking again, and after a beat, Draco followed. “Where’s this clinic you’re going to?”

“Edinburgh. It’s easiest to hide our coming and going in the large city.”

“Do you think I can come?”

Draco shrugged, then smiled, “Harry Potter can probably convince Professor Davidson to let him go.” He elbowed Harry playfully.

“Wanker,” Harry responded, rolling his eyes.

As it turned out, Professor Davidson thought it was a _marvellous_ idea that Harry Potter join their little outing. The group took a portkey to the wizarding section of Edinburgh’s Waverley Station, then divided into two groups - four students with Professor Davidson, and five students with her husband - to go to two separate clinics in the city. As Draco predicted, their first jobs involved cleaning cages of various animals boarding overnight. When the clinic opened, they took turns shadowing the vet as she saw patient after patient. 

While sweeping the back room, Harry overheard one of the vet techs say, “Cool tat!” Looking over his shoulder, he saw Draco had pushed his sleeves up to wash metal pans in the sink. The tech held Draco’s arm, turning it to see his forearm better. “I’ve never seen something so elaborate in so faint a colour. Why didn’t you ink it in black?”

“It was meant to be done in stages,” Draco lied blithely. “I fell in with a bad crowd. Youthful folly, you know -”

“Youthful folly?” she laughed. “What are you, eighteen going on forty?”

Draco smiled, then turned back to scrubbing his pans. “Thankfully I was pulled out of it before I went too far. Others had it blackened and… things ended badly for them.”

The vet tech shook her head, “Gang violence is out of control. At least you’re safe now.”

“Right, safe,” he said thickly, dropping the pan with a loud clatter. “Sorry. Where do I put these?”

“Set the rack here to dry.” She smiled kindly at Draco. “If you want to take a little break, the alley through that door is pretty quiet.” Giving him a pat on the arm she winked, “I can buy you a few minutes.”

Draco wiped his hands dry, and nodded. “Thanks.” As soon as she left he tugged on Harry’s wrist. “Take a break with me.” He pressed Harry to the brick wall outside. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Then don’t,” Harry whispered, opening himself up to Draco’s kiss. 

Angry, biting kisses soon melted into gentle, nibbling ones, until Draco pressed his lips chastely against Harry’s. “Why did you save me?” Draco whispered, his hands twisting in Harry’s shirt to hold him close.

“How could I leave you behind?”

“I’m so sorry,” Draco said, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am too.” Harry cradled Draco, tucking his head into the crook of his neck and whispering soft, soothing sounds.

Slowly, Draco’s tension eased until he pulled back to sniff and wipe at his face. “We need to go back.”

“You’re all right?” Harry asked, searching Draco’s face for signs of distress.

Draco nodded, “As well as can be expected, I suppose.”

Harry offered his hand, then kissed the back of Draco’s fingers when he laced their fingers together. “The class is going to lunch soon and then it’s back to school. Do you think we can stay behind and return later?”

Draco kissed Harry’s cheek and smiled, “Maybe if Harry Potter asks.”

And of course, it didn’t take much convincing for _Harry Potter_ to get the Davidsons to leave them behind. Assurances that they would be safe, that they had muggle money for emergencies, and that Harry could Apparate them back by curfew had Professor Davidson wishing them a fun afternoon.

They didn’t even have time to leave the magical area of the train station before McGonagall’s patronus appeared with a sharp, “ _Really, Mr Potter?_ ”

“ _Please don’t blame Professor Davidson. She agreed I needed new clothes. We’ll be back for dinner._ ” His stag bounded off, and when no cat returned, Harry took Draco’s hand. “Let’s go shopping.”

Draco’s lessons in Muggle Studies began with finances, which made him better versed in pound to galleon conversions than Harry. He had a muggle credit card as well, and had no qualms about using it. “I already told you I would be getting you new clothes. I’d like to say I’m doing it for you and your comfort, but really it’s because I don’t want to be seen with you looking like you rolled out of a donation bin for a charity shop.”

Harry tried on a thousand pieces of clothing until he had a modest wardrobe that Draco approved of. He didn’t mind the fitted trousers, especially since Draco also bought him a few pairs of jeans as well. But he definitely disliked the long-sleeved shirts and waistcoats that Draco insisted on. Again, Draco showed he was capable of compromise by including polo shirts and higher quality t-shirts. Harry hated to admit it, but the silk pyjamas felt decadent against his skin. Thankfully Draco didn’t gloat when adding two extra pairs to their cart.

They threw his old, dirty clothes away, and Harry walked out of the store in the first outfit he ever had that fitted properly. And even better, Draco took him by the hand as they walked back to Waverley Station to Apparate home. 

Draco rolled his eyes at the sappy expression on Harry’s face. “Don’t go all soft on me now, Potter. I’m just trying to keep you in a good mood until I get something for me.”

“Good, I’m trying to stay in a good mood until I can give something to you.” Harry winked and they shared a loud laugh.

Outside the train station, two young men sat on the pavement, drumming on tall, plastic buckets. A small group gathered to listen. Draco joined the crowd, staring in fascination as the beat went on.

“Harry, that’s what you need,” he said, pointing at the duo.

“What? A bucket?”

“Yes, instead of drums. Look, that’s just brilliant! All that sound from one bucket.”

Working in unison, the two men tapped the top, rim, and side of their buckets, along with a counterpoint on the pavement. Somehow one of them also tilted his bucket - kicking it up with his feet? - to make another sound when it dropped. 

When their song ended, Draco joined the scattered crowd in clapping. “Where can we get a bucket?” he asked Harry.

“I have no idea. Plus, we’re meant to be heading back to school.”

Draco approached the two men, pulling out his wallet. He dropped a twenty pound note in their collecting tin. “That was brilliant. How much for your bucket?”

“Excuse me?” the young man asked. 

“Your bucket. We want one, but we’re on a deadline and don’t have time to shop. How much for your bucket?”

“He’s not selling us his bucket, Draco. Come on. We’ll find one later.” Harry tugged Draco’s arm, but Draco shook him off.

“He’s got another bucket he’s sitting on right now, he can spare us one!” He smiled at the young man. “Ten pounds?” Draco pulled a ten pound note from his wallet, making the man’s eyes widen.

“You want to give me ten pounds for a bucket I scrounged for free?”

“Yes. Do you want it or not?” Draco waved the ten pound note.

He looked at his companion and shrugged. “Er, yeah, sure. Thanks, mate.” He looked over the buckets and offered Draco the one in the nicest condition. “Do you need sticks too?”

“No, thank you. We have those. Have a nice day!” Draco stuffed the two bags of Harry’s clothes he carried into the bucket and walked away as the two boys laughed about the weird rich toff. “This’ll be perfect. So much better than beating on your desk, don’t you think?”

“Draco, you loon, you just traded thirty pounds for an old bucket and yet you think you got the better deal?”

“Wrong, I gave twenty pounds to two talented street performers. I spent ten pounds on the bucket, which seems like a bargain for something I really wanted but don’t have a way of acquiring myself.”

“It just seems excessive.”

“It’s two galleons. I think I can manage the expense. Now stop whining about it and enjoy your present.” He shoved the bucket at Harry, who nearly dropped the two bags of clothes he carried while taking hold of the handle. 

“Aren’t you going to carry anything?” Harry grumbled. 

“I thought you were trying to be nice to me?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “At least get the door for me.”

Draco opened the door to the customer service area that masked the wizarding portion of the train station. As Harry passed through, he pinched Harry’s backside. “Such a lovely minion I’ve acquired for myself. Come along, boy,” he said in a mocking tone. “We’ve got a lecture to endure.”

Harry stiffened and said curtly, “Don’t call me ‘boy.’”

Wrapping an arm around Harry’s waist, Draco whispered softly in his ear, “Mm, take me home, love.”

That was more like it. Closing his eyes to summon the magic inside him, Harry Apparated them to Hogsmeade with the brush of Draco’s smile against his cheek.

Thankfully, the lecture from the Headmistress was a short one, especially with proof of their shopping expedition still in hand. 

“Unbelievable!” Draco laughed as they got to Harry’s room. “No matter how many times I see you get away with everything, it will always impress me. I could get used to it now that it’s working for me instead of against me.”

“Enough about my fame,” Harry said, pushing a laughing Draco to the bed. “Something for you now.” He straddled Draco’s hips and drew him in for a kiss. “I had fun today. With you.”

“Mm, me too.” Draco rolled, pressing Harry against the mattress. He ran a hand over the soft fabric of Harry’s new t-shirt, down to the button of his jeans. “Let’s get naked.”

After his conversation with Anthony, Harry viewed their relationship through a new lens. Instead of Draco’s affections being a demand for more than Harry could supply, he saw it as Draco’s first offerings of himself. And Harry was determined to be worthy of Draco’s trust and deeper affections. 

But how did he convey that to Draco? Because as soon as Draco flicked his wand over them to clean up their mess, he made to dress and leave Harry once again. He got what he wanted, and believed it was all Harry wanted as well.

“Would you stay?” Harry asked.

Draco stepped into his pants and said, “We have dinner to get to.”

Harry sighed resignedly and looked for his clothes. “That’s terribly convenient for you,” he mumbled.

“You want to do this now? But we’ve had such a good day!” Draco pulled his jeans up with an angry huff.

“Yes. Now. Because you’re right, we had a good day.” Harry angrily yanked his jeans on. “I had fun at the clinic, and a fun time shopping.” He gestured at the bed. “And then we fucked around and I thought I would get the chance to hold you. Is it so weird I don’t want to let go of this moment?” 

Draco crumpled his t-shirt in his hands, a surprised look on his face.

“Yeah, you heard me. I like holding you. And honestly, it makes me feel like some sort of afterthought when you leave before you’ve even come down from your high.”

“I’m - I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Draco stood frozen before him, looking like he might vomit or bolt at the least provocation, and it made Harry all the angrier.

“You didn’t _know_?!” Harry threw his hands up in exasperation. “Even after we set a fucking _timer_ for that very thing? But no, of course not. Can’t do it, because you’re always looking to run at the first opportunity!”

“It’s - but - there’s - dinner?”

“Not _now_ , fuckwit. In general. Yesterday you could hardly string two words together and you somehow let me know you’d rather trip down the hall naked on shaky legs than risk falling asleep with me.”

“I’m sorry.” Draco moved to hug himself, then awkwardly ran his hand through his hair, then twisted his hands in his shirt. In a small voice he said, “I’ve never had someone want that from me before.”

“Well I don’t know how many times I can tell you it’s what _I_ want from you before you believe me.” Harry pulled on his t-shirt and sighed. “Draco, I’ve tried giving you everything I can in an effort to win you over. I’ve told you about being lonely and unwanted. I’ve told you about going hungry. I think I was patient and understanding when you freaked out yesterday and I did my best to help you with it. And yet, time and again all you can offer me is a quick fuck. You have to give me something else in return.”

“I don’t have anything else.”

“No? Is that what you think? You could stay with me. You could take me off whatever fucking pedestal you’ve put me on and let me suck you off. You could tell me about whatever shit went down with that bloke you were with that’s put you off sex forever.” 

Draco’s eyes dropped to the floor.

Harry took a shuddering breath. “Just - Stop treating me like some cheap rent boy.” Draco choked on a sob and buried his face in the t-shirt bundled up in his hands. Harry’s voice softened. “Open up to me. Trust me. Be mine.

With shaking hands, Draco fumbled his t-shirt on. “I have to go.”

Harry’s heart broke at the tears he could see gathering in Draco’s eyes, the splotchy red of his face, the shuttered droop of his shoulders. But he knew pushing would only hurt them both when their emotions ran so high. Best to let Draco leave and give them both time to think.

“I know,” Harry sighed resignedly. He opened the door for Draco. “I’ll see you at dinner.” He waited a minute for Draco to get to his room, then tried his hand at warding his own door.

Silk pyjamas and a nap sounded more appealing than dinner.

He dumped his new clothes on the bed and filled the four empty bags with his old clothes, to dispose of later. He hung the new shirts and trousers next to his school robes, and folded the rest to place in the wardrobe drawers. Harry hadn’t tracked how much Draco spent, but each piece of clothing made him feel worse and worse. Instead of a fun shopping the trip, the whole afternoon felt like one, long bribe for sex.

Except for the bucket for drumming.

Draco had been so happy to find a solution to Harry’s frustration with transfiguring his desk. Harry sat in his chair and experimentally tapped the top and sides of his bucket. Then again. Louder, faster. Harder and harder. Instead of a clashing cacophony, the bucket made a sharp sound that soon had Harry working out a syncopated rhythm, almost as though he had a hidden talent that could be developed. And Harry had no one to share it with.

He regretted letting Draco leave. What kinds of things would Draco think without Harry there to talk to? And the last time Harry had been left to his own thoughts, he’d stewed himself into an unnecessary rage. He missed Draco. 

He dropped the wards on his door, in case Draco came looking for him.

Immediately a knock sounded. Harry opened the door, almost laughing at Draco wringing his hands in the hall, perfectly reflecting Harry’s own sadness. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“You’re more forgiving than I am. I figured the wards wouldn’t stay up long.”

“Come in, I suppose,” Harry said, opening the door wider to let Draco in.

He sat on Harry’s trunk for a second before jumping up and nervously rubbing his palms on his thighs. Harry gestured at Draco’s jeans. “I thought you’d change out of those as soon as you could.”

“I was going to, but then I thought of what I wanted to say. But you’d already warded the door. I decided to wait it out.”

“You’ve been out there the whole time?”

Draco shrugged. “It was only an hour or so.”

“So what did you want to say?” Harry hugged himself, hoping Draco’s words wouldn’t cut too deep. 

“Right.” Draco licked his lips and gingerly sat on the trunk again. “Look, I don’t like talking about Dolohov -”

“Dolohov? The Death Eater? _That’s_ the bloke you were with?” All his imaginings about the various possibilities of Draco’s past coalesced into a single horror story.

Draco covered his face for a moment then sighed at the ceiling. “It’s not like it sounds.” 

“Are you certain of that?” Harry asked.

“It’s _not_ but I don’t like talking about it. My parents gave me shit for it, and I’ve had enough lectures about it to last two lifetimes. It’s over and done with. Dolohov is dead and I’ve put it behind me. You should too.”

“Not fucking likely.”

“Harry...” Draco sighed.

“I deserve to know. You say it’s behind you but clearly it’s not. I don’t need all the details now, but you have to give me something.”

Draco nodded, pressing his lips together. “Just - promise me you won’t - yell at me or lecture me or any of that.”

“No.”

“Fucking arse,” Draco mumbled as he rubbed at his forehead. “It wasn’t anything, all right? Just an arrangement we had. A business arrangement. Two months, while I was home from school. He would keep me safe from the other Death Eaters and in return… I let him have sex with me.”

A black wave of rage at this fresh, new hell hit Harry hard. “Son of a fucking _bitch_!” he yelled as magic sparked under his skin amidst a burning swirl of adrenaline. No wonder Draco traded tit for tat all the time, if those were the trials he endured. Where the fuck was literally _anyone_ to save him from such horrors?

“I know, all right?” Draco groaned, flinching at Harry’s rage. “My father’s already laid into me about ‘lowering myself.’” He said the last in a mocking tone meant to mimic Lucius Malfoy and that only made Harry angrier.

“Your father? That fucking _arsehole_! Why wasn’t he protecting you from pricks like Dolohov in the first place?”

“I - what?”

“Draco, love,” Harry folded Draco in a hug, heedless of the stiffness of his body. “I’m so sorry. So sorry we put a time limit on things, that I pushed you - fuck -” he choked out. “I’m so sorry I pushed you to trade everything you wanted from me. I am so, so sorry.” He pulled back to kiss Draco’s cheeks and lips. “I’m so sorry you were hurt so badly,” he whispered, running his fingers through Draco’s hair and cupping his cheeks.

“But I - it was… It was my idea. I approached Dolohov. He didn’t - I mean, I let him…” But tears were spilling from the corners of his eyes and his hands gripped Harry’s wrists painfully.

“Letting him isn’t the same as wanting him, Draco. He hurt you. You should never have been put in that situation in the first place.” He struggled to find words that wouldn’t slice Draco worse than sectumsempra had. “You should never have been made to choose between violence from one person or many.”

“No!” Draco yelled, shoving Harry away. “You’re wrong! It wasn’t like that! It was _me_. _My_ idea. _My_ choice. I wasn’t a _victim_!” he spat out.

“Draco, please,” Harry whispered, his words forced through his tight throat. “You were - we were just sixteen. Those aren’t choices we should be making at sixteen! You’re not a victim. You’re a survivor.” 

Draco shook his head violently, and Harry pulled him into another hug. This time Draco hugged him back, gripping Harry’s shirt tight and burying his face in Harry’s neck with deep, gasping breaths. 

“They should have protected you, kept you safe. Not yelled at you for trading yourself away like some -” Harry cut off his words, but Draco flinched and he knew he heard the words _cheap rent boy_ anyway. “Love, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just felt lonely and I - I needed you near. I know you wouldn’t hurt me like that on purpose.”

“I’m so sorry,” Draco whispered against his skin.

“Don’t be sorry anymore. Be happy we survived. Be happy we have each other. Okay? Let me hold you a while? Let me keep you safe.”

Draco gave a jerky nod. Harry dimmed the lights, and tucked them into bed together, with Draco’s head resting on his shoulder. He rubbed circles on Draco’s back and feathered his face with light kisses.

And at some point in the quiet evening, between one soft sigh and the next, the red string tied one heart to the other with a tidy little bow.

\--------

Harry woke in the night, disorientated at finding someone in bed with him. Draco. Draco stayed the night. But now he was waking, and it pulled Harry from sleep too.

“What time is it?” Harry asked sleepily.

“I don’t know. I have to go to the loo.”

“I’ll come with you,” Harry said, fumbling with the covers. 

Draco sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

“For having to pee too? You’re welcome?”

Draco laughed, but took Harry’s hand in a firm grip. In the dim light of the hallway, he scrubbed his face and ran a hand through his hair to smooth the blond strands. “For keeping me company. I once… I’m too wrung out now for details. But I had a bad encounter with Dolohov in the bathroom.” Draco glanced at Harry from the corner of his eye. “The communal bathroom still makes me…”

“Okay,” Harry said, squeezing Draco’s fingers so he didn’t have to say more. “It’s okay. Thank you for telling me.”

When they returned to Harry’s room, they both changed into the pyjamas Draco had bought, and settled in bed with snacks from Harry’s bin.

“I haven’t had a midnight feast in ages,” Draco laughed, snagging the last Yorkie bar.

“Half my meals were midnight feasts growing up. I used to sneak out of my cupboard for food two or three nights a week.”

“Your cupboard?” Draco asked, his gaze sharpening on Harry.

“Like your bathroom story, it’s probably a tale for another day.”

“I can put two and two together you know.”

Harry shrugged. “Then maybe you can see why I’m a little sensitive to the pedestal you put me on.”

Draco sorted a pack of Smarties by colour, to keep his nervous fingers occupied. “It was unintentional, I assure you.” Draco smiled briefly, but it turned sad as his gaze dropped to his sweets, putting them in neat lines. “I learned about the hierarchy of power from a very young age. I extended that to sex as another form of power as I grew older. And it only seemed natural that you should rank higher than a -” He shook his head. “I didn’t think you should lower yourself in such a way to someone like me. But I can try for equal footing.” He tilted his head to look down his nose at Harry and made a broad, sweeping gesture. “You may suck me off if you like.”

The ridiculously posh tone and formal language had Harry bent over laughing. “You smarmy git!” he laughed. “Nice try but you’ve ruined your chances for today.”

“Alas, once again, my plans have fallen through and I am at the mercy of my poor decision-making skills. We’ll have to work on that.”

“You know,” Harry said, shoving a pile of snacks out of the way to pull Draco into his arms. He brushed a light kiss along his cheek. “Some would argue that the one on his knees holds all the power.”

“Is that so?” Draco asked, tilting his head.

Harry’s lips grazed his neck. “Mm… I could take you slow and deep, or fast and shallow. Draw you to the edge and keep you there for as long as I wanted. Imagine that - your orgasm would be all mine to control.” Draco gave a stuttered exhale as Harry bit down on the soft flesh of his neck. “Doesn’t sound very submissive to me.”

“Harry…”

“Not tonight, all right? But when you’re ready, I’m ready too.”

“Okay.” Draco’s glazed eyes darted down to Harry’s mouth. “Okay.”

“Will you stay with me? Until morning?”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea.”

They cleaned up the food and tucked themselves into bed again, with Draco resting his head on Harry’s chest. In the silence he asked softly, “What’s your favourite memory of someone that isn’t in your life anymore?” 

“Is that from the book?”

“Yes. It’s one I never asked, but it keeps popping up in my thoughts ever since I read it.”

“What’s yours?”

“That’s just it… I don’t think I have one? So many of the people that died last year were Death Eaters, and… None of them spark a happy memory.”

“It doesn’t have to be someone that died. Maybe it’s someone you don’t see anymore because they’re living a new life in a new place.”

“Oh,” Draco sighed. He shifted again, relaxing more as he rested his thigh on Harry’s and draped an arm across his waist. “I hadn’t thought of that. That’s so much nicer. I haven’t seen Pansy since she moved to France last summer. We had fun times together before the war tore her apart.”

Harry hugged Draco and kissed the top of his head. “I had a teacher in primary that grasped the Dursley situation pretty quickly. And instead of pitting me against Dudley, my cousin, she never once mentioned me to Aunt Petunia. She framed all of Dudley’s misdeeds as his own problems. There was nothing to blame me for.”

“Harry, it’s terribly tragic that you remember this woman fondly for ignoring you.”

“She didn’t ignore me. She just didn’t talk about me to Aunt Petunia. It helped me at home. And at school… she kept Dudley away from me whenever she could. She complimented my artwork, even when it was shit. Gave me extra portions at snack time. But my favourite memory… it was Mother’s Day and we all had to make cards for our mothers. And I didn’t really want to. Aunt Petunia was just going to bin it anyway. Miss Currin pulled me aside and said she didn’t really have time to make a card for her own mum, what with helping all the other children, and did I mind if she gave my card to her mother, since Aunt Petunia didn’t need _two_ cards? It was the first and only time I made a Mother’s Day card that went to a mum that might care for it. I spent all afternoon painting the most perfect hearts in every colour. She signed both our names at the bottom and thanked me for helping her.”

“That lying bitch,” Draco said thickly, wiping at his eyes. “How dare she pass your work off as her own?”

Harry laughed. “Her mum sent me a piece of chocolate in thanks. I kept the wrapper until the foil disintegrated.”

“Fuck, Harry, don’t you have any happy memories?”

“Hmm… one time I skipped dinner to snuggle with a gorgeous blond.”

“Oh really? And how’d that turn out?”

“I gave him a blow job so intense he _cried_.”

“You made him _cry_? That story sounds absolutely _fascinating_ and I want to hear every single detail.”

“Alas, that part of the story will have to wait for tomorrow.”

Draco huffed a disgruntled sigh, but snuggled in closer to Harry. “This part of the story is nice too.”


	7. Epilogue

Harry was grateful for every hour spent on his broom to train his thighs for this vigorous workout. He tangled his fingers in the hand grasping his waist and bounced harder and faster on Draco’s cock. “Fuck, Draco. Tell me you’re close!”

“Just like that, love. So good… Merlin, you look hot!”

Sure, Draco got the lovely view of Harry’s arse, while he had to content himself with Draco’s knobby knees and the blue polish on his toes. It didn’t truly matter in that moment when Draco’s fingers dug into his hip and he cried out, arching his hips up harder into Harry.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” Harry moaned, spilling over his own fist as Draco’s grip eased. Harry rested his hand on his tired thigh and panted down at his mess. He wanted to slump over in exhaustion, but this position didn’t really allow for that.

He heard and felt Draco reaching for his wand. A tap on his hip had him lifting slowly off Draco. In quick succession he heard the cleaning charms, as well as one to ease any lingering soreness. He crawled awkwardly over Draco’s legs to circle around to his pillow, where at last he could rest.

“That was fun,” he mumbled into his pillow, “but I like the ones where you’re doing all the work better.”

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing about you,” Draco said, rolling into Harry and kissing his temple. “Why are we both so lazy?”

Harry rolled onto his side to face Draco. “Plus, I feel like Buttons, having to clamber off you and circle round and round in bed.”

As if summoned, Buttons leaped onto the bed, circling three or four times between their bodies before curling up to rest. Harry ran a hand down her back, over the three spots of brown fur that looked just like buttons on a waistcoat.

“Shh,” Draco admonished. “You’ll hurt her feelings and then we’ll have a cranky crup on our hands for a week!” He, too, gave Buttons a little pat, but only so he could caress Harry’s fingers in the process.

“This had all the disadvantages of doggy, without any of its advantages. What did you think?”

Draco grinned, and Harry’s soft glow intensified. “It had _some_ advantages. I love the view of your gorgeous arse riding me.”

“Hmph,” Harry grumped, “we’ll see if you feel the same when you’re the one staring at knobby knees.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll take your word for it. I’m okay with skipping the variants on reverse cowboy.”

“Take my word for it… you sneaky git. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you _always_ make me go first and you have yet to try any of the ones I say are too much work. I’m going to start lying so this little game can be a little more even.”

“How about I suck you off tomorrow morning and we can call it even?”

“Fine,” Harry said, laughing into his pillow as Draco made notes in their book. “I’m going to tell Hermione you’ve gone full swot on her book. She’ll probably find us a volume two to work through.”

“I’d be shaking in my Egyptian cotton sheets, but I know you’re too afraid of all her questions to even mention you’ve seen me naked.”

“She knows we’re having sex.”

“Does she?”

Harry needed a change of subject, and fast. “Are we reading a chapter tonight?” 

“It’s up to you,” Draco said, putting the sex guide and pen in the bedside table drawer. “You’re the one that has to be up early. I can open the lab whenever I feel like it.”

“Let’s do it. It’ll give me something to daydream about when another idiot is droning on at me. I hate the Ministry.”

“You should resign,” Draco said with a complete absence of sympathy, as he did every time Harry complained about work. He picked up _My Lost Prince_ and opened it at their bookmark. “This’ll be fun. Conall shows up in this chapter.”

“About time.” Harry settled in against Draco, mindful of Buttons sleeping between them. “I was beginning to think you’d lied about the plot of the book.”

“Sorry about Elwin and Rosamund. But at least we can be pretty certain you’re gay and not bi.”

“ _You’re_ gay,” Harry retorted automatically. “It better live up to the hype or I’m not re-enacting the scene.”

“I think you’ll be pleased. If nothing else you can take some joy out of the chapter title.” He winked at Harry. “ _Chapter six, the plot thickens_ ,” he read aloud.

Harry laughed. “Definitely my favourite chapter so far.” He hugged Draco. “All the chapters with you are the best chapters.”

“Shh, no interrupting. _Chapter six, the plot thickens. Prince Elwin strode into the throne room with his usual confidence, expecting the usual gathering of the usual boring courtesans…_ ”

Harry knew if he focused hard enough, listened to Draco’s soft voice, and savoured the warmth of his body next to Harry’s, he could almost feel one more strand of red thread wrapping around them.


End file.
